Redemption of a Broken man
by Rain-6
Summary: Ra's Al Ghul is carrying out his agenda of turning the people of Starling City against the Arrow. He is more than successful. The Government sees Arrow as a threat and prepare to arrest him. And all the more his rapport with his team is degrading since his return from "death". This is the story of a broken man who must fend off his inner demons and find the hero in himself.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Ramsey Doyle had never been as scared in his whole life as he was right now. He bolted as fast as he could, his arms flailing as he made a wild dash up the stairwell. He climbed three steps at a time, slipping and scrambling to put as much distance as he could between his assailant and himself. The terrace door was open. That must be how the assailant got in. It was raining outside. That is why he couldn't hear anyone come in. There was puddles of water everywhere.

He looked around trying to find a viable exit point. The assailant was closing in fast, he could hear the footsteps getting louder. He had to escape and fast.

He sprinted to the edge of the building and looked down. It was a long way down and there was nothing using which he could scale down, not even a pipe. And if he slipped he would most probably end up with shattered bones in almost every part of his body or worse dead.

There had to be another way down.

There always was.

He looked to the next building. It was just about five meters away. There was a balcony on that building. It was just within jumping distance. If he made it to the balcony, then he could break into the building through the adjoining door and make his way down to the street using the stairs.

He would be more safer on the road. He could hide somewhere in the alley.

On the terrace he was an easy target.

Ok the balcony it is then, he thought. His clothes were completely drenched Adrenaline was coursing through his body. He could feel his cheeks flushed. His senses were heightened. Even though it was a dark night and there was not enough light, he knew he could make the jump. He backtracked a couple of steps to make the jump and dashed forward taking as wide steps as he could. He reached the edge and pushed forward into nothingness as hard as he could.

He flew through the air as vertigo clenched his heart. He arched downward towards the balcony railing.

He had timed his jump perfectly. He caught hold of the balcony railing but his footing on the ledge slipped as gravity pulled him down. His shoulders stung as he hung on to the railing. He was not used to such adrenaline pumping activities. He pulled himself up and over the railing. It was pouring heavily now and it was troubling his vision. He was about to enter the building through the balcony door when he heard a sharp _twang_ and an arrow impaled itself on the wall to his left. He only had time to look at the arrow when it exploded, blinding him and his senses. It was a flash bang.

He couldn't see and there was a sharp ringing in his ears. He incoherently tried to rush in through the door, but his foot caught into something and he lost his footing. The next thing he knew was that he was free falling down the building. He had toppled over the railing in his haste, and now was plummeting down the building at terminal velocity to meet his demise.

The cold wind assaulted him as he fell. An involuntary and savagery cry escaped his throat, as it shattered the was going to die a terrible and painful death. He fell for a couple more second. Then his fall was abruptly halted as he grunted with pain. The wind was knocked out of him as pain seared through his mid-section. His mid free fall arrest was very painful. He groaned in pain as he felt the wires cut into him. He was being pulled up slowly. The more he was pulled up the more his pain intensified. The rain pouring on his face was not helping clear up his vision either.

He had been caught.

And now would be killed.

His assailant had caught up to him. And if half of what he had heard on the streets were true, then he would now end up with broken appendages or worse dead.

Slowly his vision cleared, and he looked down and his vertigo shot north. A whimper escaped him. He was hanging from the edge of a seven story building with nothing but a wire around his waist.

The assailant was standing at the edge of the building holding on to the wire. He caught hold of his arm and pulling him towards himself, and twisted it painfully. Ramsey screamed as he felt a sharp pain explode in his right shoulder.

"Scream any louder and I will rip your arm of your shoulder." growled the assailant into his ears. His voice was deep and digitally modified, which only terrified him more.

"Please stop! My arm. You are hurting me." begged Doyle.

The assailant cut the cord holding Doyle, and effortlessly tossed him like a sack of potatoes over the ledge and onto the terrace. Doyle tried to make a run for it but was pinned down by the assailant. He placed his knee on Doyle's back and twisted his arms behind him.

"Stop screaming and answer my questions" growled the assailant.

"I don't know anything man. I- ahhhhahh-" he screamed in pain as the assailant twisted his arm harder.

" Answer my questions and I will let you go. Lie to me and I will put an arrow through you and trust me if you lie to me I will know. Deal.."

"Ok..Ok.. I will answer your questions. Just stop hurting me."

The grip on his arm loosened a bit, but the knee on his back was still forcing him to lie on his stomach. He moved his head to the right to speak.

" The kidnapping that took place last night. You heard anything on the street…."

"No…the kidnapping…I don't know anything about it.." answered Doyle, a little to quickly to be truthful.

The assailant caught on to the lie. He caught Doyle by his hair and banged his head hard on the tarmac.

"Owww….jeez…fine, fine.I am sorry. Just don't hit me in the head." groaned Doyle.

"Then stop lying to me and trying my patience. Speak up before I mum you forever…" threatened the assailant.

" Ok..Ok…Last week there was this rumor that some big shot gang was coming over here from City to pull a high profile job. We all just laughed it off because we believed no one would be stupid enough to come to Starling City and pull any kind of job what with you ready to put arrows up their ass. But as the days went by the rumors got stronger. We didn't know what kind of job they were gonna pull. I assumed that they would just rob some of the rich guys here and in the process would get caught."

" Two nights ago I was down at a bar with my buddies in the Glades. We were having fun, cracking jokes, drinking obviously. Then these two tall, burly dudes come in. I couldn't see their faces. They always had their hoods up and had their back to me. There was something about them that stuck out like a sore thumb. They were giving off a weird vibe. I have been a thug long enough to recognize another low life-"

"That's all you got? That isn't the least bit helpful. Anything you saw that would help me identify them…."

"Wait…wait….there's more. They sat on a booth all alone. Everyone at the bar was going nowhere near them. They were talking very hush hush. Then all of a sudden this tall, scrawny looking man came and sat down with them. This guy was sweating like a pig, like he was being threatened by those guys or something. His eyes were all terrified."

"You are really trying my patience here. What does this have to do with the kidnapping?" asked the vigilante, now clearly irritated.

"I think those men kidnapped the girl. They must have been the crew I was hearing all the rumors about. I asked the bartender if she had seen those guys around before, and she said she hadn't. I am telling you man, those men were giving off some serious vibe-"

"Wait, the bartender…Those men must have ordered drinks, did she see what they looked like?"

"Way ahead of you man. She said she saw only one, he was wearing shades at night. Suspicious…right. He also had a thick beard, had a deep voice and spoke with an accent."

"What did the other one look like, the one who wasn't hiding his face?"

" He was tall and scrawny. Nothing about him said professional kidnapper. He was a civilian man. He had blonde hair up to his shoulders and a very prominent goatee…I mean you will recognize him when you see him."

"That's it…?"

"That's all I know man…I swear I know nothing more…Please don't kill me…I have kids…"

" I don't kill people, at least not anymore."

Doyle felt the pressure from his back lift. He turned around and started massaging his back. Boy there was going to be a bad bruise tomorrow.

"You don't kill…ha, ha…Well that's not what I see on news nowadays. Old habits die hard, I guess." shot back Doyle.

The vigilante didn't reply, but sauntered towards the edge of the building.

"Expect a call from SCPD anytime. Tell them what you told me. If you try to run, you know I will find you." said the vigilante and jumped over the edge.

Doyle breathed a sigh of relief," Phew…that went better than expected.."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER-2

Tonight had been futile. He had been out all night, trying to glean intel from street thugs by beating them into pulp. But so far the only piece of information he had was based on the intuition of another low life.

Well that was better than nothing, thought Oliver as he revved up his Ducati.

It was time to go back and check if Felicity had something useful.

It had been 6 hours since the Mayor's daughter had been abducted. The SCPD were turning Starling City upside down trying to find her. They were banging on doors, forcing anyone to come down to the station if they looked suspicious.

The Mayor and his wife had sat for a press conference, begging the kidnappers to not harm their daughter and in exchange they were willing to pay any amount of ransom on National Television. The kidnappers had not contacted them till now. The FBI and SCPD had set up a control centre at the mayor's residence.

Captain Lance had himself issued an official statement on TV saying that the SCPD were doing everything in their capacity and using every resources available at their disposal to find the girl. He even went onwards to say that finding the girl was top priority and that the Special Task force which was responsible for the capture of the vigilante would be corroborating with the FBI to try and rescue the girl.

For the last couple of weeks Captain Lance had made it his life's mission to apprehend the Arrow and put him in a cell. The Captain had certainly made him sweat during his nightly endeavors. Whenever he had stopped some kind of crime or busted up some kind of operation, the Captain along with his Task Force would swoop in and try their best to arrest him. Oliver had to use all his wit and expertise to evade them. Few times he even had shot arrows and knocked out few cops to escape. Even though he had been unhappy to do so, he rationalized that it had to be done.

It was evident that the Lance was getting more and more frustrated as his attempts to capture him was failing miserably. Every night there would be some cop who would end up in the hospital because of him. Lance was becoming more crude and visceral in his attempts to bring in the Arrow. It seemed to Oliver that as Lance's frustration, at not being able to capture him, burgeoned he was becoming more inclined to put him on the cold slab of a morgue rather than a cell.

Oliver knew that this sudden hate for him was not entirely because of his deep-seated loyalty to the law, but primarily because of the secret that he kept from him regarding Sara's death. It blew up a massive hole in their relationship. It was Laurel's idea and he had to respect it. Captain Lance had a coronary heart condition and he could only take so much. Everything had come full circles.

No matter how many times the Arrow pointed out that he was not involved in the killings, there was no way that he could make Captain Lance see reason. His emotions were clouding his judgement. Ra's Al Ghul was playing a very elaborate and meticulously planned game.

Ra's Al Ghul had made true to his promise and was making his life miserable. Ra's had left behind a pile of bodies just to turn the whole city against him and it was working. The Arrow made the news almost every night now. They whole city despised him. Those critics on TV would condemn his actions and make comments on what kind of a monster he was to have indiscriminately killed so many people. This really got Oliver's blood running hot. Those people were wrapped up in their own world and thought for no one other than themselves.

Their faux concern for the well being of the people may fool the audience but it could never fool him. It was just a sick ploy to hike their program rating. They never have to face what he faces everyday. They have no idea what the people on the streets go through everyday, what kind of evil breeds down there. He was the one who had to sully his hands by cleansing the city off the dirt and the evil. He was the one who had to put his life on the line everyday trying to make this a better place.

It would have been a lot helpful if he was in good terms with his team. There was friction between his team and himself right now. He was to blame for this. He had not been honest with them, he had kept them in the dark, especially Roy. Roy had always idolized him and placed him on a pedestal. They had segued from seeing him as their omnipresent, head strong leader to a damaged, selfish man who was more inclined towards hurtle head along into the darkness without any care for who he hurt in the process. His team was broken.

Even Felicity who always saw the light in him, who supported him, throughout everything was giving him the cold shoulder now. Just before he went off to face Ra's, he had professed his love for her. She had begged him not to go, but Oliver believing that he was doing this to protect everyone from this monstrosity of a man had not listened to her. She believed that if he truly loved her he would have stayed. He broke her heart.

Since his return, he realized that Felicity and he were never meant to be. He had hurt her and you are not supposed to hurt the one you love, or so he believed. Felicity was like a light which brightened up his dark world. His soul was already doomed. He was going to hell and didn't want to poison her. He would burn if he touched the light that was Felicity.

Oliver felt the darkness inside him sometimes. It would often blur his belief of the right and wrong. Everyone who had been in contact with him had been hurt in some way or the other. This crusade of his had come at a cost. His father, Tommy, his mother and countless number of people had laid down their lives because of him. It was his immense spirit that was keeping this darkness at bay. Sometimes the darkness would rear it's head and strike, trying to take control. And there were times in the past when the darkness had taken over, and he had almost done some terrible things which he regretted.

A soft vibration in his chest shook him out of his musing. It was his comm. He tapped on his chest to answer it.

"Oliver…"

It was Felicity. And he was glad to hear her voice.

"How far out are you?" she asked.

Oliver frowned. Her voice was cold as usual but was laced with a sense of urgency. Since his return, Felicity had been faintly aloof from him. Gone was the jolly, perky, ebullient girl. She wouldn't crack a smile whenever she saw him, and acted cold and professional towards him. Not that it was affecting her job; just the opposite. She was spending more time at the cave and he noticed that she had dark circles under her eyes. It was evident that he had really hurt her and now she was pulling away from him and withdrawing into a shell.

"I am just 6 blocks away. Why?"

"There's been a break in the case. You should see this immediately." she answered coolly.

"I will be there under 10 minutes."replied Oliver but was met by the sound of the phone's tone. She had hung up.

Yup, he had hurt her pretty bad.

He picked up speed as he weaved through the traffic and sighed. He had really screwed it up with everyone in his life. And now life was screwing him back. His team was avoiding him like the plague. His sister was fortunately oblivious to all the fiendish incidents happening around her. He was pretty she that if someday she came to know about it all, she would surely cut ties with him. The SCPD had a target on his back. Ra's Al Ghul was, in his own abominable way trying to coax him into joining his league. He had even turned the whole city against him. Starling City now saw him as a criminal, a monster.

It was nights like this that made him doubt his actions. He didn't owe the people anything, and in spite of it all he donned the costume every night and kept the city safe while everyone slept soundly. It was nights like these he wished that he could drop every responsibility and take off. He wished he could just shed this side of his, just like shedding skin. The Arrow was poisoning everything. It was taking him over. Whatever was left of Oliver Queen was slowly being engulfed by the Arrow. A person couldn't have two identities. He had to let one go.

But then he reminisced about all the good he did for the people; his battles against Malcolm Merlyn and Slade Wilson. How he had given his all to stop them from destroying his city. His thought went out to the girl who was most probably gagged and tied up, scared out of her wits, waiting for someone to come and rescue her. These thoughts emboldened his spirit. This city still needed the Arrow, no matter how much they condemned him. He knew that someday the Arrow would have to go, he would have to answer to the people of Starling City for his crimes. But tonight the stakes were high, tonight that girl depended on him. Tonight Oliver Queen had to go under and the Arrow had to take over.

Author's note-

I hope this chapter answers all your questions about the premises, the setting and Oliver's relationship with everyone around him. In this story I will try to recreate what the show runners said they would depict in season 3 and failed miserably. In this chapter I tried to delve into the conflict that Oliver face with his duality and how it affects everyone.

This is my first fan fiction, so please trudge carefully around it and bear with me. I promise I will improve and this story will be a hell of a ride.

Of course I do appreciate constructive criticism.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER-3

Oliver tapped the pass key and descended down the stairs. It had been three years since he started using the cellar as his base of operations and even now when he came down here he got a sense of tingling anticipation fused with fearlessness. He had been away from the island for three years now, but every time he was down here it was as if he was back on the island. The adrenaline rush which he got down here reminded him of his time on the island - the sound of the sea constantly hitting the shore, the sound of leaves rustling, light breeze chaffing his skin, the shrill cacophony of some faceless creature and the constant need to stay alert and look over his shoulder; all comes rushing back to him every time.

It was as if he had never left the island. It was as if his heart and soul were still on that island.

Soft fluorescent halo emanating from the panel greeted him. With his weapons on display and the soft lighting bathing them, someone might have mistaken it for the lair of a serial killer but this was how he liked it. This was his very essence and Felicity had captured it efficiently. This was who he was at the core - a hunter. A hunter whose only weapons were his wit and his primal instinct of survival. His survival instinct was raw and visceral. It deigned him to something similar to an animal. And just like one, his survival instinct sustained him there during those five years.

He made his way to the training area and surveyed the room. It was dark and quite. There was no one around except for Felicity, whose back was turned to him. She was slouched in front of the computer panel and was ceaselessly tapping away on the keyboard. The muted fluorescent light made her blonde hair appear dark and cast a very eerie shadow of her. He unclipped his quiver and dropped it soundlessly on the table and looked towards her. She was unaware of his presence.

" Felicity…." he called.

Felicity yelped out of her chair in fright and turned around.

"Geez…Oliver…What did I say about sneaking up on people? You almost gave me a heart attack." She gave him an angry look.

He noticed that she had dark circles under her eyes. She was under a lot of stress.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. It's just that I have a lot on my mind right now." apologized Oliver.

"No kidding" retorted Felicity under her breath.

Oliver made his way towards her.

"So what's the emergency?"

She sighed, turned around and flopped down on the seat.

"I hacked into the SCPD database since Captain Lance is unwilling to share any incriminating information with us about the kidnapping…"

" And…did you find anything useful?" Oliver asked hopefully.

"As a matter of fact I did. The girl was kidnapped in front of her college gate. There was a CCTV camera mounted on that gate. It captured the whole kidnapping. Here…you should watch it. It's interesting."

She swiped the screen of the computer and tapped something on the keyboard and a video popped up on the screen. She hit play.

The camera was mounted on the gate, so the only thing that it displayed was the entrance of the college, the curb in front of the gate and the adjoining street. It was evident by the blurred and grainy nature of the footage that the camera was not a good quality one. The time stamp at the right hand bottom of the screen read "3:30 pm"

"The classes get over at 3:30 pm and the kids will come swarming out all at once like ants, so it's better if I fast forward it to the kidnapping…." explained Felicity.

"Wait…she was abducted in front of hundreds of students? How is that possible?" asked Oliver.

"Well, that's the thing. She came out an hour later. Apparently she and a friend of her's had an extra credit class, so she had to stay back.…for an hour. It was as if they knew her schedule and were waiting for her.." answered Felicity.

A grim look graced Oliver's face," They must have performed a lengthy scout of the area and gotten really close to her."

Felicity fast-forwarded the footage an hour and pressed on play.

Now there were two girls standing on the curb, talking and giggling uncontrollably. Their back was turned to the camera. The girl on the right had shoulder length auburn hair. She was in a yellow T-shirt and jeans, and had a messenger bag slung on her shoulder. The girl on the left had a headscarf over her bobbed blonde hair. She too was dressed in a T-shirt, albeit it being blue.

"Which one's our girl?" asked Oliver.

Felicity paused the clipping and gave him a incredulous look," You have been out all evening investigating the kidnapping of a girl and you don't know what she looks like. Well someone's getting sloppy."

Oliver sighed," Just answer the question Felicity."

" The one with the auburn hair and you still can't see what she looks like, what with her back to the camera. There must be a picture around here somewhere…."

"Don't worry. I will see what she looks like later. Let me watch the clip know…"

The video began again. The girls went on with their joking and giggling for another ten minutes then the blonde girl waved goodbye to her friend and walked away to the left. Now the girl was left alone and she was most probably waiting for her driver to pick her up.

So with nothing left to do, she whipped out her cell phone and began tapping away on it incessantly. This went on for another ten or fifteen minutes. Nothing happened except for a couple of cars zooming by.

Then all of a sudden the phone dropped from her hand, she swayed on the spot, her hand reaching out to grab something for support and dropped to the ground inexplicably like a sack of potatoes. She was out cold.

Oliver held his breath as the events unfolded on screen. It was happening too fast, even for him.

Suddenly a van pulled up to the curb beside the collapsed girl and came to a screeching halt. A driver hurried off his seat, came around the van and yanked open the back door. He then proceeded to scoop the girl from the ground like a rag doll, hurl her on the back seat and slide the door shut. He looked around a couple of times to make sure there wasn't any bystanders, then scuttled to the driver's seat and drove away.

The screen went blank.

"Felicity…that man-"

"Yes, yes, I am way ahead of you." interrupted Felicity.

She rewinded the video clip and blew up the image of the man. This man was lanky and a little over six feet. He had bedraggled blonde hair which reached his neck and was matted to his forehead. His face was clean shaven except for a prominent goatee. He was sweating excessively. His eyebrows were scrunched and there were lines on his forehead which might been the result of intense worrying. This man was not a kidnapper, surmised Oliver and the look of terror in his eyes were a dead giveaway. Oliver recognized it because it was the same look he got nowadays when he looked in the mirror.

Oliver was good at reading people from their body-language and this man was clumsy. He was not even capable of being a petty theif much less a criminal mastermind. And foremost of all, this video corroborated the intel that he had gathered from Doyle tonight.

"Felicity….this man is not the kidnapper." said Oliver gingerly.

"Hello….are you on something? What do you mean by he is not the kidnapper? How much clearer can this get? You saw the man pick the girl up like a sack of potatoes and toss her in the back of the van. Did you not see it?" barked Felicity.

Oliver frowned at her. Tonight she was snarkier then usual.

"No, that's not what I meant. Tonight I interrogated one of the low-life for information regarding the kidnapping."

"Did you get anything useful?"

"Well not at first, but then I put the fear of God in him, and information came rolling out from his tongue easily. His name is Ramsey Doyle." explained Oliver.

"Whose? The blonde guy?" enquired Felicity.

" No, the one I interrogated."

Felicity immediately turned around and typed the name in the SCPD database.

A page popped up on the screen with Doyle's mugshots.

"Well your Ramsey Doyle has been a very bad man. He has a long list of priors. Assault and battery, petty theft, breaking and entering, assaulting a police officer, the list goes on a and on. Do you think his intel is reliable?"

"He may be a petty criminal but what he revealed did have a ring of truth to it. He said that he saw this same blonde man in a bar in Glades. According to Doyle this man is a civilian and was coerced into committing some kind of crime by two burly looking guys. His story is totally legit. This video corroborates it. I mean what are the odds, Doyle sees him in a bar and gets a bad feeling about it and then couple of days later this same man appears in an incriminating video. He is not even trying to hide his face, for God's sake."

"But Oliver, what if this Doyle guy is wrong? He is a criminal and all we have to go on is his intuition. Should we even take him seriously?"

"Felicity….. Doyle is a criminal and he would recognize another one with his eyes closed. Doyle said that our blondie looked out of place in the bar, sitting with two brawny dudes. He was sweating and twitchy and was not at all at ease. I think he was being blackmailed into kidnapping this girl. This is an example of a classic patsy. The real kidnappers, whoever they are, are really clever. They are hiding behind this man. I mean, come on, it's kinda obvious isn't it. This man won't just kidnap the Mayor's daughter and be sloppy enough to show his face to the camera."

"And then there are more instances which illustrates his incompetence." stated Oliver.

"Like what?"

"Rewind the video and blow up the rear of the car."

She did as Oliver asked.

"There…." pointed Oliver. " Just above the rear wheel. It says Sprint Rental services. Run facial recognition against their database. See if you can ID him. Then dig deeper and find out every little things about him, however insignificant. This man might be our only hope of finding the kidnappers and rescuing the girl."

Felicity immediately swooped down on the keyboard and started tapping. The way her fingers danced across the keyboard with ease and practiced precision really intrigued him.

Meanwhile Oliver fiddled around with the video, rewinding and forwarding it; trying to get any kind of clue which would reveal the kidnappers. But there wasn't, at least not to the naked eye. These guys are good, he surmised. They were professionals. And dangerous. He would have to tread very carefully if he ever got close to catching them.

Oh! They would get caught. There was no doubt of it. No matter how skillful and proficient one was, a trail is always left behind. You just had to know what and where to look for. And who better than Oliver- a hunter, a predator, to sniff the trail of the prey and capture it.

"Ok the computer is running his face through the databases. It is gonna take some time. In the meantime there is something in the video that has been bothering me. Care to explain it." said Felicity, whirling around in her chair to face him.

"Which part?" asked Oliver without looking up from the screen.

"The part where the girl inexplicably falls to the ground. Obviously she was drugged but I have never seen a drug work this way. It happened in a split second. Do you thing it was administered to her through her food?"

"That has been bugging me too. Rewind back to that part…."

She swiped across the screen and played the particular scene again but in slow motion.

The girl stood on the curb in front of the college gate, ceaselessly tapping on her phone. Then all of a sudden the phone slips from her hands and drops down. Her right hand shoots out to grab something to hold herself steady, but then she collapses on the ground.

Felicity pauses the video, looks at him with raised eyebrows in a questioning look.

"I think the tranquilizer was administered externally. Play again from the instance just before the phone drops and play it as slow as you can." said Oliver.

Felicity did so and decreased the frames per second rate to slow it down.

The girl stood on the curb and tapped on her phone. Since it was playing at a slower speed, this continued for thirty seconds before…

"Stop" Oliver called out.

Oliver pointed to the extreme right hand corner of the screen and asked," What is that?"

"What is what?"

"Look. There, where I am pointing" said Oliver pointing to the right of the screen.

Felicity got closer and squinted her eyes to see.

"It's like a blurred dot. What the hell is that?"

"All will be cleared in a second…Play the video at same speed rate. Watch the dot."

She played the video and concentrated on the dark smudge.

As the video progressed slowly, the blurred dot moved linearly across the screen and got stuck on the girl's neck.

"Wait! Is that a dart?" exclaimed Felicity.

"Yes, it's a tranquilizer dart. And our blonde friend was not the one to shoot it because his van comes in from the left of the screen whereas the dart flies in from the right. You noticed how her right arm shot out. It was as if she was trying to grab onto something to steady herself. But I think what really happened is that she felt the dart prick her neck, and she raised he hand to swat at it, feeling the prick thinking it was some kind of bug. The tranq must have been really strong, to have knocked her right out."

"It makes sense. So the kidnappers scouted the place out, found out when she would stay late and then when she did, they made their move. The girl was waiting out on the curb alone. The kidnappers were nearby, watching her. They shot the tranquilizer, knocked her out but didn't come to pick her up. They knew there was a camera stationed there. So they did the next best thing….extort someone into doing the dirty work for them. So this blonde guy shows his face on camera and hurl the girl in the back of the van. Showing his face on camera was part of the extortion deal I suppose? The cops will have a face which will shift all the suspicion on him. The real kidnappers, meanwhile will be safety hidden in this veil of their own creation. They let him take the fall. The cops can't come after them because they don't know these guys exist. They pull off the crime and can't get caught. Perfect crime…." surmised Felicity.

"Not perfect enough, since we know about it Felicity."

"We do, but the cops don't. They have the resources to find these guys. Maybe we should inform Captain Lance about it."

"Yes, we should inform him about this but he won't take any of our calls."

"But there is someone whom he will talk to, or to put it precisely forced to talk to." smirked Felicity.

"Right. I need to speak to Laurel. Where is she?" inquired Oliver.

"She is out with Roy. They were tracking a drug cartel for the last couple of days. I think there is a deal going down tonight. They are going to bust it, what with the cops being busy and all." she said in a matter of fact way.

This enraged Oliver.

"She is out again. I exclusively warned her not to go out. She will hurt herself." barked Oliver.

"She won't. She can take care of herself. She went up against Brick and held her own." countered Felicity calmly.

"She trained in a ring for a couple of months and she thinks she is Sara. She will get killed. God knows that family has lost enough."

"She is not Sara." Felicity shrieked, her demeanor changing instantly. "Sara was dark, she kept secrets. And so do you."

Oliver instantly regretted raising his voice against her. He was angry at Laurel and had no right to take it out on Felicity. She was still hurting. In his eyes she was like a fine china cup. A simple clink to the cup would crumble it to dust. She was to be handled with care.

"I….I am sorry Felicity. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you. I never thought I would admit it….but these last couple of weeks…..they have been hard on me." said Oliver quietly.

Her demeanor softened immediately at his confession. She had never seen Oliver at his weakest. And for him it was a moment of weakness.

She made a movement to approach and comfort him but thought better of it.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry too. I should never have said those things about Sara. It's just that it's been a long day. And you should go and talk to Laurel. She always keeps her phone off when she is out prowling. I will text you her location once I ping her GPS tracker." She sighed heavily as she plopped down on the chair.

Oliver looked at her. She was in really bad condition. She looked tired and was close to losing consciousness.

"Go home Felicity. Rest. Come back tomorrow. We need you rested." said Oliver softly.

"I will rest once the girl is safety back home. Until then there is work to be done."

"Felicity you don't have much left to do anymore tonight. You can lay down on the couch. If you get a match on the database you can text me the information."

"No, thanks. I am a big girl. I will live." countered Felicity.

"I don't want you to be hurt, is all. Why are you being so stubborn?"

"Because I want to feel important Ok. You guys are all high and mighty. You go out and do the real job. You keep bad guys off the board. I, on the other, don't feel like I contribute much. So excuse me, if I try to fit in this band of misfits….." Felicity replied without taking a breath, her cheeks flushed.

Oliver sighed and got up. " I am going to talk to Laurel. Try and get some rest."

He moved towards the stairs to exit out of his base. He stopped at the base of the stairs and turned around…

"Felicity….." he called out.

She spun around in her chair gingerly and looked at him.

"Never doubt your worth to us. You are the most important member of the team. You are our guide…our light…..our watchtower. Without you we would all be lost in this ocean of darkness….." said Oliver solemnly.

Felicity looked at him for a few second and then gave him a soft appreciative smile….

He nodded at her then ascended up the stairs and into the darkness again.

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Author's Note:

Phew…that was tough. It is pretty tough to not get immersed in these juicy characters and their dysfunctional relationships. It's a pity he doesn't have his family anymore, otherwise I would have had a field day writing about their relationship with him.

So what do you think so far? Is it any good?

In response to a review about whether or not this story is about " _Olicity_ ", all I have to say right now is that the depiction of their relationship on screen is very premature and petulant. Felicity is a catch, I must admit….any guy would be lucky to have her. Oliver on the other hand is a very complex man. He is secretive, broken and mildly psychotic. He may have returned from the island, but he doesn't know that he is home. He doesn't know that he is safe. So basically, what I am trying o say is that Felicity can do a lot better than Oliver. He doesn't know who he is and will not be able to provide her what she needs. He doesn't deserve a girl like Felicity or any other girl for that matter.

So my story here is basically about Oliver trying to find himself in the chaos of life. I am gonna push him to the limits, break him, stomp on him and crush him. This will be his evolution process. Then out of the ashes of this ghost of a man, will rise a phoenix which will unfurl it's wings and take flight. That will be the hero that Starling City needs.

Sorry….I am just rambling on and on and on at a mile a minute. I bid adieu and hopefully will publish the new chapter next week on…Wednesday most probably. Keep the reviews coming. Really appreciate it…

BTW…totally dig the new "Green Arrow" suit. And did you watch the new trailer of "Batman vs Superman". Totally blew my mind…SDCC rocks!


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER-4

It was second time that he was out tonight. Considering the introduction of the Task force in Starling City, his nightly endeavors had been cut short. And since the Task Force were not patrolling the city tonight, he could stretch his legs.

He cruised through the city and into it's heart at high speed. The purr of his Ducati pierced through the silence like shattering glass. The whole city was asleep. It was drizzling. The streets were wet and there were puddles everywhere as he splashed over them. His headlights falling on the road ahead made it glaze. A wet and rainy Starling City was a spectacle to behold. There were angry clouds blowing in from the south as if they were conspiring to unleash hell on earth. There was a storm coming and it felt pretty insignificant to him considering the storm raging inside him at the moment.

Starling City was a port city for the last 200 years and still is. The grueling business of export and import had really modernized the city. It brought in high revenues and the city became the hub for traders in the whole of the Pacific Coast. Export and import business really gentrified the city. It created direct jobs and induced jobs which increased the taxes and revenues for the city. This glorified the city. All the traders and sailors passed through the city and fed all their tales and experiences to the city. The city took everyone in with open arms and they bathed in it's glamour.

When Oliver was little he would occasionally accompany his father on little trips on their yacht. The Queens had always been sea men. They were attracted to the sea like bees were to flowers. He was always intrigued by the sea when he was little, although that was not so now. His father had instilled this in him at an early age. He remembered something that his father said to him once during one of their trips. He had pointed out far into the sea, where the sea met the sky and said, "Son, you are a Queen and a sea man. That is where we belong. All of us. Your destiny is out there and you have to sail one day to find it." His dad had just said it in the passing. But it was not until later that Oliver discovered how true every word were.

The sea was an ally and an enemy. At least it was so for Oliver. It molded him into something better. I gave him purpose.

But it also took away his dad.

He missed his dad, even though he walked down the wrong path.

He died a righteous death.

His father left behind his legacy in him.

He disengaged the clutch and revved the engine. He shook himself out from such disheartening thoughts.

Tiny droplets of water slid across his helmet visor, distorting his vision. He considered stopping and wiping it off, but he was on a tight schedule and there was a certain charm about riding in the rain. It was fun and relaxing, a concept that Oliver had almost forgotten and given up on. He had locked it in a glass box and tossed it away in the shadowy depths of his mind.

The rain slowly soaked into his leather. The drenched, cool leather clung to his body, chilling him to the core. He felt relaxed and at ease. It made all his pain and worry ebb away, albeit temporarily. It was a cathartic exercise and one that put his life in perspective. Nature always made him feel insignificant. He had had his fair share of run ins with some extreme weather conditions and had survived it, but he never considered himself superior for doing so.

Oliver sighed. Lately he had been indulging in a lot of introspection and it was hampering his psyche and state of mind. Maybe it was because he had recently escaped from the jaws of death and had witnessed his life flash before his eyes as he plummeted down the ravine or maybe because he had reached a point in his life where a part of him, no matter how trivial it was, wanted something more from it. Maybe he wanted stability. His mind searched for an escape from this vicious cycle of self degradation and pain.

A clap of thunder shook him out of his reverie. Dark, angry clouds had enveloped the whole city and it was evident that the sky was going to burst open at any moment. He had to speak with Laurel fast if he wanted to escape the onslaught.

Huh….Laurel…., he thought dejected.

Handling Laurel had been tough for Oliver. Maybe because she didn't take any shit from him or maybe because she knew him better than anyone. Laurel had always been a part of his life…. both his lives to be precise. There was the selfish, arrogant, playboy before the island and she stood by him naively even though he cheated around her. Now there is this damaged, shattered, psychotic man and she still believed in him and insinuated herself into his life. But lately, he felt like she was slipping away into darkness. A darkness which she didn't let anyone see. And he hated this darkness and how reckless it had made her.

Since his return from the island, life had been hard on Laurel. She had blamed him for her sister's death, even though she forgave him later. On the first year of his crusade, they had lost Tommy. It was traumatic. She had taken out her anger on the Arrow, but she blamed herself more than anyone else. And then this year had been worse, she watched her sister - Sara plummet to her death. This had set off some sort of fire inside her. He was afraid that this fire would hurt her more than help her wade through the darkness.

But she had come through. The time when Oliver was away recuperating from the fatal fall, she had taken the initiative. She led the team against a dangerous criminal and prevailed. It was her tenacity, spirit and never-give-up attitude which came to her aid during these trying times. She was so much like her sister. The stubbornness, the tenacity, the determination, the passion for justice…..it was uncanny. It was like they were two sides of the same coin. And he had successfully hurt both the sisters. One was dead and the other was blindly sauntering into a path of self-degradation and pain. She believed prowling the city at night looking for trouble was some kind of therapy for the pain and the hurt…. But at some level, he sympathized and understood what she was going through. Hell, it was the same force that was driving him, wasn't it?. He donned the hood every night to right the wrongs that was done to Shado. He was honoring her. And Laurel was honoring her dead sister, there was nothing wrong with that, was there? She was just looking for some sort of meaning.

Laurel was just trying to find directions in her life, and he believed she was entitled to that. He only wanted her to be better prepared for whatever evil dwelled in the darkest pit of the city. His inflated sense of right and wrong might be effective out on the field, but when it came to making delicate life decisions, he was as clueless as the next guy.

When he had started his crusade, he believed he would be able to carry the burden on his own. He could do it all alone. He assumed that he could keep this side of his life hidden from the one's he loved, but that was not to be. It had started to seep into the persona of Oliver Queen. As Laurel and Felicity had said to him, when he had shown his displeasure at how Laurel spent her nights, he had lit the torch and was carrying it alone for a long time. It was only natural that there would be some people who would want to join him and help him to keep the torch burning. He had created something big, something bigger than all of them and he couldn't control or condemn anyone for joining him.

He turned a corner and a multi-story parking lot came in view. This was where the drug bust was going to take place. Laurel and Roy were in there somewhere. He shunned all the morbid thoughts into a dark, dreary pit in the back of his mind. He might consider digging them up later.

The parking lot was 150 meters high and it was a hulking figure compared to the other buildings in the area except for the one across the street from it. It was build 3 years ago. This was a very humble neighborhood of Starling was a shopping mall in the next block. The previous Mayor saw it fit to build a huge parking lot for the shopping mall, assuming it would increase the revenue of the neighborhood. But, instead of helping the area the Mayor only made it worse. The endless running and honking of vehicles at every hour of the day drove the residents crazy. In the end, the residents filed a petition against the parking lot but after grueling hours in the court which yielded no result, they pulled out. The residents seemed to have made peace with the disruption in the decorum of their neighborhood.

And right now the very same parking lot was being used for a drug deal.

It was a 8 story parking lot with a capacity of storing up to 500 cars. It had two entry and three exit points to avoid traffic congestion. It employed a ramp system. The parking lot was built on a 30,000 square foot area. It was a behemoth compared to the rest of the apartments in the neighborhood. But luckily for Oliver the building across the road from the parking lot was an old, broken down and decadent building which was as tall as the sixth floor of the parking lot.

He came to a stop in front of this building, parked his bike in the alley running beside the it. He then shot a grappling arrow to the terrace of the building which pulled him up. According to the information given to him by Felicity, the deal was going to go down in about 20 minutes. And if he wanted his job done he had to move things along for Roy and Laurel, who were keeping tabs on the parking lot too, waiting for the dealers to show up.

He moved to the edge of the terrace, fished out his binoculars and checked out all the levels of the parking lot. The parking lot was just 25 meters away from his current location. So almost everything inside the parking lot was visible to him. The lighting inside was pretty good. He could make out almost a dozen cars on each were two sets of ramps - one for entry and the other for exit. The ramps spiraled up into every level from the north side of the building which was currently facing away from Oliver. The side which was in his view, was the south side and the exit ramp spiraled down on that side. The whole place was spacious. The previous Mayor had not spared a penny in it's construction it seems.

He swept through all the levels again. There was no activity on any of the level till now. Laurel and Roy were nowhere to be seen.

So now all he had to do was wait for the designated time. And he hated waited.

The rain had really picked up it's pace. It was really pelting down hard now. Oliver was crouched on the terrace under the bare sky, and to him it felt like pebbles pounding his body. He could imagine depressions forming on his body by morning. His leather was growing heavier as water seeped into it, and it clung to his body. Lightening flashed through the whole city turning the eventful night into day for a split second. Thunder rumbled angrily as the dark clouds collided overhead. And during this whole time his binocular was trained on the parking lot, looking for any sign of activity.

He didn't have to wait long. His patience was rewarded within 15 minutes. He saw headlights on the fifth level. Then the car to which the headlight belonged, came around and stopped abruptly. It was a black SUV with tinted windows. Typical, he thought. Four guys got out of the car. One was carrying a large duffel bag, which most probably contained money. The one carrying the bag was most probably the pack leader. He was tall and well built. His rugged face and scar running down the left side of his face told a story of disorder and chaos. The other three were most probably his bodyguards considering they had guns in their hands. They were all dressed in black from head to toe. Oliver squinted his eyes and pressed the binocular harder to his eyes, the rim bruising his eye socket. Then suddenly from the west, a group of asian guys marched in and stood in front of these guys.

The Chinese Triad, surmised Oliver. Of course, these guys were at the fulcrum of every criminal activities in and around Starling City. This did not come as to surprise to him.

The five members of the Chinese Triad walked up to the guys in black and started talking. How Oliver wished he could listen in on them. Where were Laurel and Roy? He moved his binoculars up and down trying to find them. The dealers were in position and the deal was about to take place and they were nowhere to be seen. Then there was a small movement on the corner of his binoculars. He moved his binoculars and focussed on it. There they were, Laurel in her jet-black costume and contrasting wig; and Roy in his blood red costume. They were perched on a beam above the drug dealers. Both of them were concealed in the shadows, so even if the thugs looked up they wouldn't be able to see them from their angle.

All the members of the Triad had a back pack on there shoulder. They were probably packed with drugs. Both the parties spoke some more, then the pack leader of the Triad collected all the backpacks from his henchmen and moved forward to make the exchange. The scarred man moved towards him to meet him halfway with the duffel bag. He was a towering presence in front of the tiny Triad man. They exchanged the drug and the money. Laurel had her phone out. She was taking pictures as proof. Oliver hoped she got a fair amount of it.

No sooner had the exchange been made, Laurel threw a small object at the thugs from where she was hiding. It hit the ground and rolled over to the feet of one of the thugs.

And then it went off.

It was the Canary scream bomb.

Oliver thanked the Lord silently that he was far away. He had himself been at the receiving end of it, and it was not a pleasant experience. It had taken a whole day for him to get his hearing back to normal.

Everybody on the parking lot, let go of whatever they were holding and clamped their hands to their ear, in an attempt to block out the noise. Few of them screamed and started rolling on the ground. Laurel and Roy deftly jumped from the overhead beam and got to work trying to subdue the criminals. A couple of guys shook themselves out of the daze and came at Roy, who nimbly ducked under the punch aimed at him and in a flurry of jabs and kicks knocked him back, flat on his butt. He then set about to do the same with the others. He was very proficient at what he did. Oliver felt a tinge of pride in himself for how Roy had turned out.

Laurel on the other hand was doing a good job too, albeit being sloppy. She whipped out her baton and knocked the feet out from under a guy, punched him hard on the nose, definitely breaking it. She was rough around the edges, and that is why he had insisted she need training to smoothen out the creases. But at this current moment, she was holding her own. She ducked left and right, her platinum hair flashing around like lightening. Then she lashed out with multiple jabs and finished off the move with a roundhouse kick.

Her combat style was different from the one Oliver used. His style was more fast, swift and agile whereas Laurel's was more inclined towards boxing. It was only natural that she fused Ted's style with her own. She used brute force, nonetheless it was effective. What he was witnessing right now was a result of Laurel's determination, perseverance and Ted's support and understanding. A couple more months of this, and he was sure her style, technique and confidence would skyrocket, and he wouldn't have to worry anymore.

As both Laurel and Roy were busy beating the thugs to pulp, they failed to notice the scarred man, who was thrashing around on the ground holding his ears a couple of minutes ago, crawl out with the bag full of money in the middle of the throw down. He slung the heavy bag on his shoulder and scrambled to his car. He got in as fast as he could, started his engine as the headlights went on. The car them headed for the exit ramp.

That man was going to escape.

Oliver sprung from his previously crouched position, like a tensed coil. He wished he had some kind of psychic power, so that he could warn them Roy or Laurel that the scarred man was escaping. He willed them to turn around and look at the fleeing car. But they didn't. They were too busy engaging with the now few gun wielding thugs. And in spite of that, he wasn't worried about them. Roy was capable of holding his own against four gunmen and would make up for the loss in experience of Laurel in these kind of adverse situations.

He was more worried about the man that was currently escaping in his car. It didn't matter if they rounded up all the henchmen and put them in a lock up, as long as the brains behind the operations was not in custody as well. Oliver had to do something. He couldn't let that man escape.

Keeping this thought in the fore front of his mind he swung into action.

The car had reached the fourth floor. It's tire screeching as it spiraled down the ramp at more than the optimal speed. It was now or never. He had to act soon. A rough plan took shape in his mind and he decided, in a split second, to act on it.

The parking lot was roughly 25 meters from his current location. His position on the terrace was level with the sixth floor of the parking lot and the car was almost at he third level. So his only option was to zip-line down to the second level and stop the car. So taking into account the distance between the two buildings and the angle at which the second level was from his position, he came to a conclusion that he had to release his zip line slopping upwards at an angle of 30 degree from his horizon , if he wanted to hit the wall above the ramp leading to the second level.

He pulled out a zip-line arrow from his quiver. The zip-line arrow was his brain child. It was thicker, longer and heavier than most of his other arrows, since it contained a reel of stainless steel wire wound up inside it. It had a range of around 30 meters. The arrow head was diamond tipped to provide optimum penetration on the toughest of the tough materials. There was grooving on the shaft of this arrow. It was only compatible with Oliver's custom made Oneida Kestral bow. Felicity had come through with that. There were certain new features and adjustments made to his bow, which enabled him to shoot certain specific arrows and the zip-line arrow was one of them.

When the zip-line arrow was released, it separated at the grooving. The arrow head and the hard wood above the grooving shot out, carrying the steel wire, to hit the target whereas the nock, fletchings and the softwood got clipped on to the indentation provided in his bow.

Oliver used a lot of potential energy to draw the string which resulted in the flexing of the bow. So his bow was designed in such a way that every time the string was drawn, it stored one-fourth of the energy, to be used for later purpose. So when the time was right, the bow converted this potential energy into kinetic energy. And this kinetic energy was used in the the zip-line arrow.

So at the push of a button, this kinetic energy shot the second half of the arrow attached to the bow in the opposite direction with respect to the front half, where it impales itself on any surface, thus completing the zip-line.

Oliver nocked the arrow, pulled the drawstring to the fullest, raised the bow at an angle of 30 degree from the horizon and let go. The arrow shot upwards like a missile, carrying a stainless steel wire behind it. The arrow head soared through the night sky for a few seconds then dipped down and buried itself on the wall above the second level of the parking lot.

Perfect hit.

His zip-line was perfect and taut. It was good to go. He wound the steel wire around a small pulley attached to his bow. It could be used as a handlebar to zip-line across. He run forward holding onto his bow overhead and jumped over the building ledge into nothingness.

He was zipping at a swift pace as gravity propelled him forward down the incline. Rain was hitting his face, as the cool breeze blowing towards him tried to push him back. The car was spiraling down to the third level now. He zoomed down the line and was closing in on the building. He was just 8 meters away. The parking lot was looming closer as seconds passed. When he was just 2 meters away, he yanked his bow free from the wire and jumped forward towards the large parking lot ventilation window on the second level. He soared through it, dropped his head down and hit the pavement of the ramp. He rolled a couple of times to minimize the impact of his fall, but nonetheless it hurt.

He pulled himself up to his full length. He could hear the faint shouting from the brawl on the fifth floor but it was instantly overshadowed by the squealing of wheels from the ramp overhead. He checked his surroundings. In front of him was the second level parking area, with a dozen car sitting there silently. Behind him was the large ventilation window through which he had soared in. To his right, the ramp exited the second level and disappeared downwards to the first. And to his left, the ramp spiraled upwards towards the third. The car was on the floor above him and was coming straight towards him from that direction. He turned left, towards the direction of the incoming car. He fixed his gaze on the corner of the ramp from which the car would emerge. At any moment now he would see the glaring headlight of the incoming car. The angry humming of the engine drew closer. All of a sudden the car turned the corner and came into view. It looked like a beast, with it's glaring headlight as it came barreling towards windshield of the car was tinted black so he couldn't see the drivers face, but he could imagine the contorted face and the narrowed eyes filled to the brim with concentration, determined to run him over.

The car was 8 meters away from him and was picking up speed. If he didn't take any measures to stop this incoming barrage, then he would be squashed like a bug and if he got out of the way to save himself then there was no way he could catch him later.

The car was just 6 meters away now. The glare from the headlight was blinding him. He did the only thing which came to his mind. In quick succession Oliver shot two arrows towards the car. The arrows darted through the air like lightening. The arrows flew and struck the wheels, blowing out the tires. The car lurched, disoriented. It slightly swerved and then suddenly careened hard towards the railing running along the ramp, and banged into it. Upon striking the railing, the car spun out of control and then rolled over. It was now only 3 meters away and was plowing towards him with great force. He dived hard to his left to avoid getting hit as the tumbling block of destruction whizzed past him at break neck speed. The sparks and the screech emanating from the metal body chafing the pavement reverberated across the parking lot.

Oliver turned around to look at rolling car. The car kept on rolling for a couple of seconds and then slid, up side down into the second level parking area. It was headed straight for the parked cars. There was no sign of it slowing down. It went and collided side ways with a car which in turn hit the wall in front of it and got squashed in between.

And then it came to a halt.

Oliver got up and ran as fast as he could to check if the man was alright. His heart clenched in fear. He should have handled the situation better. His rapid decision to shoot the tires might just have cost a man his life, albeit him being a criminal. God forbid but he had enough on his plate already.

As he drew closer, he noticed that the pavement was scorched and singed by the chafing between the body of the car and the pavement. A sharp, burnt stench hung in the air.

He reached the car and bend down to examine it. Overall the damage was not overwhelming. It was a strong car. The windows were not shattered, but the windshield was cracked. Only the frames were bend out of position and the body was jarred out of position. Part of the body were discolored, the metallic part showing underneath the dark paint due to the intense scraping on the pavement. He broke the window with his elbow and peeked inside. The airbags had gone off as he had predicted. At least it would have cushioned the man from some severe injury. The man lay inside at an awkward angle with his seat belt holding him in position. Oliver pulled him out through the window. He was heavy. Blood was gushing from his forehead but apart from that he seemed fine. The airbags had taken most of the blow. Oliver put his finger on his neck to check for the pulse. He felt the weak and faint thump against his finger and heaved a sigh of relieve.

He was alive. But was knocked out cold.

Well, it was good news for him.

Now all he had to do was get him up to Laurel and Roy.

Ten minutes later, he walked up to the fifth level with the man towed on his shoulder. It was a strenuous task. The man weighed about 200 pounds, and he carried him up three floors on his foot.

Laurel and Roy came into view. All the thugs were sprawled on the ground, and a couple of them were being tied up by Roy. There were oblivious to his presence.

"You missed a spot." called out Oliver, implying to the man currently unconscious on his shoulder.

Both of them stiffened instantly. They swiveled on the spot and took up their fighting stances. Roy had a arrow nocked and was pointing his bow at him.

"Wow! hold it. It's just me."

Both of them relaxed their stances when the realized who it was. Roy gave him a curt nod, acknowledging his presence. Then he went back to tying up the thugs.

Laurel stood where she was and fixed him with a skeptical look, most probably trying to fathom the reason for his presence.

He went up to her and dropped the guy at her feet.

"All the ruckus we heard coming from downstairs…that was you?" asked Laurel.

"He slipped away during the brawl. You were lucky I was here. You guys were sloppy." deadpanned Oliver.

"Oh! I don't remember asking for your help. We were handling it, in case you hadn't noticed. Is that why you are here? To argue with me and talk me down from doing this, because guess what Ollie, I don't need your approval to do this. This is my life." started Laurel.

Oliver lifted his hands in surrender.

"I am not here to argue and pester you into training. You are right, it is your life and you know what's better for you. If you believe you don't need to train then don't although that gash on you arm seems to say otherwise." said Oliver pointing at her upper right arm where blood oozed out from a long slash.

"Apply pressure on it. Otherwise your arm will bleed out and you will go into shock."

"It's nothing I can't manage." replied Laurel casually, clamping the gash with her left hand to stop the bleeding.

"Why are you really here Oliver?" questioned Laurel, with a serious expression on her face.

Oliver got straight to business.

"I need your help."

"What kind of help?" asked Laurel dubiously.

"Your father and I aren't exactly buddies right now and I need to pass some important information to him immediately. I got Felicity to call him but he won't answer it….."

"OK….go on…"

"I need you to pass this information on to your dad. Considering your relationship, he can't ignore you forever." said Oliver as he handed her a flash drive.

"What's in it?"

"It's about the kidnapping case. New information about the kidnappers has come to light and I think the Captain should know about it. They are cunning and dangerous. He has the resources to catch them. Please just get it to him as soon as possible."

"My dad and I don't exactly see eye to eye right now. But I will get it to him as soon as possible." said Laurel with a steely look of determination.

"Thanks. And Laurel, good job tonight. The cops have been trying to apprehend these drug dealers for months now and you caught them even if it was sloppy."

Laurel quirked one eyebrow, wondering if that was really a compliment and after few seconds nodded in appreciation. She then turned around and went to give Roy a hand.

Just then his chest buzzed. It was his comm. He tapped on it and heard Felicity's frantic voice on the other side

" Oliver, I got him…" she declared.

" Who the blonde guy?"

"Yes, the facial recognition came through. Our perp's name Adam Stone, 36 years old. He is a plumber. He was married but his wife died two years ago. He has a 14 year old son who stays with his uncle at Central City. You have to come over immediately… I have something to show you. Dig is here too."

"Nice work Felicity. I am on my way." Oliver hung up.

Now…where did he park his bike?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

" Felicity…" called Oliver as he descended down the stair into his dark lair.

"Yes, come over here.." beckoned Felicity from somewhere inside.

She was standing over the computer with an intense look on her face. He was surprised to see the thickset, muscular body of Diggle standing beside her. His body cast a long shadow which enveloped Felicity. He approached them. Diggle turned around and addressed him.

"Oliver…"

His voice was thick and husky as if he had just been shaken out of his sleep. His eyes were tired and droopy. There were shadows under his eyes. His forehead was wrinkled with worry and he looked like he had aged a decade.

Oliver pulled off his hood, unclipped his quiver and dropped it on the table to his right.

"Dig, you look like crap. What are you doing here at 3 in the morning? Don't you have a family?" asked Oliver.

"Yeah, I have been pestering him to go home ever since he came in an hour ago. But he won't listen…" cut in Felicity.

Diggle fixed her with a mock glare and turned back Oliver.

"I couldn't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I dream that it is my daughter that is being kidnapped. So I came over here. I have to help."

"There is not much to be done here. Trust me we are doing everything we can. You didn't have to come. Go home Dig, go be with family." implored Oliver, as he moved towards the computer.

"No, I can't. I'd rather stay here. I'll go once the girl is safe."

Oliver huffed. Well he couldn't exactly drag Dig out of the cellar and put him to bed with his family. Dig was level-headed and was capable of making rational decisions better than anyone in the team. Oliver trusted his judgement. So if he wanted to stay and help, who was he to argue otherwise.

Oliver shrugged at him and looked at Felicity.

"What have you got for me?"

Felicity's face lit up at the mention of the case. She had really brought out her A game on and cracked the case wide open. She had come through again.

"Come take a look at this…"

She beckoned him to the computer, swiped at the screen and a page popped up.

"Like I said before, the blonde guy's name is Adam Stone, 36 years old. A resident of National City. He is a plumber. He was married but his wife died two years ago. She divorced him 6 months before she died…. He has a 14 year old son and after the divorce his wife had sole custody. After her death, custody went to the father but he insisted his son stay with the maternal uncle who took him in without hesitation. Oliver….this man is a nobody, much less a criminal. He pays his dues regularly. No criminal record, not even a parking ticket. No wonder the kidnappers chose him. He was easy to manipulate. Maybe they threatened to kill his son."

"Hmm….National City…Isn't that like 8 hours away from here by flight? What was he doing so far here?"

"No idea. All I know is that he got into Starling City four days ago. He had checked in at the Nights Motel. His credit records show it…"

Oliver quirked an eyebrow at her.

"What? Don't look so surprised. I don't like peeking into other people's banking records. It's unethical but it's gotta be done." ranted Felicity.

"I didn't say anything."

She let it slide.

"Any way, you should see this. According to the record, he rented the car for two weeks and he paid up front with cash. I think he never had the intention of returning the car and bailed with it…"

"Yes, Felicity…I get it. All this information sure do shed new light on Adam Stone and all his hardships….but it doesn't get us any closer to finding the girl or the real kidnappers. All these will be moot, if they can't lead us to either of them." cut in Oliver.

"Will you let me finish? His son lives in Central City right? So on a hunch, I checked the traffic cam footage for any car going towards Central city and guess what?"

She handed him a picture. It was a picture taken by a traffic cam. It was a picture of the van which was used for the kidnapping with Adam Stone behind the wheels. His hair was swept back from the wind, revealing his wide forehead which was filled with creases. His eyes were drowned in worry.

"He is in Central City. Why? To visit his son? I don't get it. He kidnapped a girl on camera and then got caught again while fleeing the city. I mean this seems too easy. This clearly seems like the work of the real kidnappers. They have to be pulling the strings."

"I don't know Oliver. But Stone has a large property in the outskirts of Central City. It used to be a godown once upon a town, but now it is barren." said Felicity.

"It is going to be very hard to catch them. I mean what elaborate game are they playing? They have successfully destroyed the life of a man….Dig…you are good at reading people. What do you make of these kidnappers?" asked Oliver turning to the tall man standing beside them with a solemn expression on his face.

Dig cleared his throat. His brows were furrowed in deep concentration.

"From what I saw and heard from you guys, I think these guys are pros which you had already surmised. They are controlled, disciplined, maybe had some kind of military training, extremely cunning. They successfully manipulated a civilian into doing their dirty work for them. According to me they should be handled with caution and shouldn't be reckoned with."

"I guessed as much Dig… but how does Stone fit into their plan? Do they plan to kill him? And where is the girl? Is she with Stone or has he already passed her off to them?" Oliver shot these questions out like bullets.

"We don't have any shred of evidence which will lead us to the real kidnappers except for Stone. He is the only link we have to the kidnappers and the girl. We have to find him. Felicity…You said that Stone has a property at Central City. We should check it out." stated Diggle.

"I agree. We have to find Adam Stone if we hope to find the girl or the kidnappers. I will call and ask Barry to check the property out and search the city for Adam Stone." said Felicity and picked up her phone from beside the computer.

"No…"interjected Oliver, yanking the phone from her hand.

"No, we are not calling Barry for this. He already has enough on his plate. I will go and check it out." stated Oliver.

"But Oliver it will be more pragmatic if we bring Barry into the loop. It will be faster." countered Felicity.

"It happened in our city Felicity. It is my responsibility not Barry's. It is 3:30 am now. If I start now, I will be there by morning. Then I will check out the property tomorrow. It's not like I am of much help here lately, what with the Task Force on my ass. believe me I will be more resourceful there. Laurel and Roy are more than capable of taking the reins for a day, don't you think? And besides if I need help I will call Barry."

"Yeah, right if your inflated ego allows it." retorted Felicity under her breathe.

"I agree with you. You should go. If you need help we are just a phone call and four hours away." agreed Diggle.

Felicity nodded too. The plan made sense. If any one was capable of finding the thugs and rescuing the girl it was Oliver.

"Very well. I am off then. Take care."

Oliver turned around and walked towards the door for the third time tonight, picking up his quiver on the way out.

God, he thought, it was indeed turning out to be a long day.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

AUTHOR'S NOTE-

Sorry guys, I missed the deadline to update I set for myself. I planned to do it this Wednesday, but I fell ill and this constant running nose and persistent headache put me down real bad. Anyway, as the chapters go by, they get more tough and complicated to write. Writing this was the hardest so far.

All the action scenes are described to the best of my capabilities, I read and reread them several times trying to smooth out any creases and I hope you understand and like it. All the information about the bows and arrows and the science behind it are figment of my imagination i.e they are bullshit. But I wish they existed. I researched a lot of arrows over the week and learnt a lot.

Notice that I mentioned National City. Yes, that's where Supergrl is, well at least on the show. In my story all the heroes are in the same universe and I might consider crossing them over, maybe not in this but certainly in the sequel if I can finish this. I mentioned Barry so I can safety say that he will make an appearance but in what capacity, I would like to keep that to myself.

Now, about the last chapter and a review which pointed out my mistake, I would like to say that yes, on TV 'Olicity' is not petulant but their relationship was premature. There was no build up. The Felicity in my story is not petulant, she is hurt. Because she put Oliver on a pedestal. She thought he would come through. She thought he was infallible. So when this illusion was shattered in the worst possible way, it was only natural that she withdraw into herself and give him the cold shoulder.

And last but no the least, thank you every one for the reviews and the follows. I couldn't do it with out you, especially mjf2468 who has been reviewing and supporting me since the first chapter. So thank you. And please read and review this chapter. I promise the next chapter is gonna be more interesting. I can say that you will not see it coming…

Please review


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER-5

Oliver picked up the hot styrofoam cup and took a small sip from it. Hot, scalding coffee swirled into his mouth and slipped down his throat leaving a burning trail down his food pipe.

Ah!…that's how he liked it. Black coffee with no sugar. It seared his mouth but it did jolt him out off his sleep. During his years on the island, if there was anything he missed more than home, it was coffee. There was no coffee machine on the island.

He could feel the warmth spreading through him and firing his synapses. It cleared his mind and sucked him out from the drowsiness that had enveloped his body from all the hard work he had put in last night. He smacked his lips, savoring in the taste. His ends were tingling as if it was adrenaline rushing through his blood stream.

It was 7:30 in the morning and he was currently in Central City, sitting in this friendly coffee house called Jitters, nursing a cup of hot coffee. He had been here before, with Barry and it was under a similar circumstance as today. The last time he was here, he had been investigating Captain Boomerang and now he was here for the kidnapping case.

He had considered calling Barry and meeting with him, but thought against it. Being a superhero himself, he could understand how taxing the job was. The responsibility and accountability which fell on their shoulders were immense. So it would be downright selfish of him to ask Barry to drop everything at hand and help him, and knowing Barry he would do just that.

His last visit here had been disastrous, what with Barry loosing his cool, running head along into the arms of the bad guy, getting his brain washed and then going rogue. In that moment, he learnt how dangerous and tough it was to have Barry as an enemy, what with him being super human and everything. He had fought super humans before, but Barry Allen was at an whole other level altogether.

As time went by, people poured into the shop in swarms. It was a wonder that the shop was able to accommodate so many people. The hustle and bustle intensified in the small shop as couple of people shoved past where he was sitting, making him almost spill his coffee. The chatter raised at a level which was hurting his ears as they all tried to make their way to the counter to order. All their voices mingled together with the scaling of the chairs. He noticed a large, obese man in a suit push past the others in an attempt to order. He snapped his fingers at the already distracted people behind the counter. Oliver imagined that the shop must be this way every day during the peak hours of the morning. All the working people rushed to their offices and on the way passed by the shop to pick up their morning coffee.

The waiters worked at a rapid and practiced pace. Everything was organized. Oliver noticed how one person took the order and passed on the information to the other who passed it to another , so on and so forth until the go-to cup was brought back to the counter from the back. The lid was then deftly placed on it and handed over to the customer. The customers took their coffee with a smile, showing their token of appreciation with a small gesture for satiating their caffeine demand.

Oliver laid back in his seat and observed the whole scene, all the while taking small sips from his cup. He was content to just sit back and watch the crowd shuffling around. It wasn't long before he had to get back to work but in the meantime there was nothing wrong with relaxing for a bit. This wasn't something he got to do back in Starling City, maybe because he was always on a schedule and never deviated from his daily routine. But here at Central City, which was miles away from home, he could break free from the shackles and let loose.

Then all of a sudden he felt someone tap him on his shoulder, thus snapping him out of his thoughts. He swiveled on his stool to look at the source.

"Mr Queen…what are you doing here?"

He looked up to see a short, slender girl staring down at him. Her warm brown eyes was filled with surprise from finding him here. She was dressed in a blouse and formal skirt. Her hair cascaded down her mousy face and gently rested on her shoulder. Her nose and cheeks were tinged red from the cold outside.

Oliver got up from his stool, towering over her and offering her a smile.

"Caitlyn….Hello…how are you?" greeted Oliver.

She looked uncomfortable stand wedged so close to him in this crowded place. She shuffled back and replied with a smile, huffing with exhaustion from having wrestled with the crowd for her order.

"I am fine really. It's really a surprise finding you here. I mean, we were not informed beforehand, otherwise we would have been here for company. Did Felicity call? I didn't receive any call, but I am not sure….we were pretty busy last night, what with all the met-" she ranted on until Oliver stopped her.

"Caitlyn…relax…no one called because I asked them not to. I am not here because I need your help, I am here for something else.."

"Oh…sorry. Why are you here then?" she quipped without thinking.

Oliver lifted an eyebrow at her.

She realized her mistake.

"I am sorry…I didn't mean to pry into your private, personal matters. It's none of my business."

Oliver laughed at her attempt to cover up her mistake.

" Nah..It's okay. You know what Caitlyn, join me. I see you have a to-go cup so you must be off to Star Labs. But I am sure Dr Wells won't mind your delay at my expense. Come on..keep me company. I am getting paranoid with all the stares that I am receiving…" Oliver offered.

"What? No. I really can't. I have work."

"You can go to work later. Come on. Join me…"

She looked skeptical about the offer. She wavered with her decision and glanced at her watch.

"Come on..sit for a few minutes. Tell me about what's been going on around here.."

She glanced up at his pseudo-pleading face and gave in.

"Fine but only for a few minutes.."

"No problem.." said Oliver raising his hands up.

She rounded around him and took the stool opposite him. She took a long gulp off her cup, swallowed the hot stinging coffee down and regretted it instantly as it burned down her food pipe. Her eyes bulged out.

"It's hot…." she exclaimed fanning at her mouth with the her hand.

He chuckled.

He offered her a napkin from his side of the table. She took it and dabbed at her lips with it. Then she crumpled it into a ball and held it in her fist. Then she looked at him expectantly, all the while tapping away on the table incessantly with her other hand. The silence was getting uncomfortable and she was avoiding his gaze. Then he realized what the reason of the awkward silence was…

" Caitlyn..Am I making you nervous?" asked Oliver, with a smirk.

Her eyes bulged out. She looked like a deer caught in the headlight. She averted her gaze and focussed her attention on the coffee cup label, which only confirmed his suspicion.

"Caitlyn…look at me."

She looked up at him, her brown eyes swirling with apprehension.

"You don't need to be nervous. I know that we haven't spoken much the last time all of us got together. But this seems like an opportune time to talk to each other better." said Oliver.

"Well Mr Queen it's not as much being nervous as being….you know slightly intimidated." added Caitlyn, clearly in a state of unease now.

"Intimidated!….Wow, that's not something I have been accused of being, well not as Oliver Queen at least." chuckled Oliver.

"Although…I am curious, what about me intimidates you?" asked Oliver, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

"Well I wouldn't exactly say intimidate. It is intimidation bordering on me being utterly and extremely self conscious around you." confessed Caitlyn.

He was stumped by her confession.

"Self conscious? What are you taking about?" countered Oliver, incredulously.

"Oh come on mister…You are Oliver Queen..prince of Starling City. You are like a celebrity and I am sitting across the table from you. People over there by the counter are staring at you." said Caitlyn with a laugh.

"Please….not the celebrity thing. I feel extremely uncomfortable being treated specially or when people gawk at me for no apparent reason. I confess, before I may have taken advantage of the celebrity status and done certain things that I am not proud of but-"

"Like taking a piss on that cop." countered Caitlyn, with an eyebrow raised.

This caught Oliver off guard for a moment.

"Contrary to what you believe Mr Queen, you were a celebrity and still are up to a certain extent….back then you were the poster child for every bad boy in the country. I remember that particular incident when I was in college. He was a very good cop and was doing his job. You were like a god to all those frat boys. You were on TV regularly and for the wrong reasons. I think you were the only celebrity who was on both the lifestyle section and front page regularly. Your shenanigans inspired many pranks in our college.." said Caitlyn.

"Ok…now you are just making me feel bad about myself. But at least we're conversing now"

"I am not trying to make you feel bad." cleared Caitlyn with a smile. "I am just showing you things from my perspective. You were this rich, charming, playboy who regularly made appearances on TV. So you can understand if I am a little apprehensive sitting here with you. Back then I had made up my mind that if I ever had the misfortune of meeting you I would give you a piece of my mind. But now sitting here across from you, I am tongue tied. It is absolutely surreal."

Oliver let out a sigh.

"But you wouldn't be sitting across from me now if you still had that same opinion about me that you formed years ago, would you? Something tells me that opinion you had about me isn't as strong as it was once." pointed out Oliver.

She gingerly took a sip from her cup and replied," Yes, you are right. I didn't know you back then and I won't presume that I know you now. And I have no idea what you went through back then. But now, seeing Barry for the past six months I can understand what you go through everyday and, what you have become now is a far cry from the person you were back then. You are better person now and are fighting for a cause. I think in a way that island was good for you. It changed you for the better…"

He remained quiet for a few seconds, deep in thought and then replied, "You know my mom has been dead for almost a year now but for a few minutes I swear I saw my mother in you. You know, she was the only one who could make me feel so petty and insecure about myself in one line and then good about myself in the next."

"It's the truth Mr Queen-"

"Caitlyn…stop calling me Mr. Queen. People at work used to call me that. My friends call me Oliver or Ollie. And I consider you as one… so please…" interjected Oliver.

She considered his words and gave him an affirmative smile.

"Ok….as I was saying _Oliver_ , you are essentially a good person. You know that, right? You don't have any special privileges and still you go out everyday and risk your life. That's gotta count for something right? All those bad decisions and choices you made before are outweighed by the person you have become and the choices you are making now."

"Surely Caitlyn, you are not trying to rationalize my actions. I was a bad person who hurt a lot of people and doing what I do now doesn't change the fact, does it?" said Oliver.

"I am not saying that you are redeemed of all your sins. Those sins are part of you. They made you who you are. You have to carry them around like a tattoo. But without them the Arrow doesn't exist. Don't you see that you striving to scrub yourself clean of your sins is helping so many people? It isn't the symbol that you have created that shows the light in the darkness Oliver, it is the man underneath."

Oliver looked at her in awe. She had wisdom beyond her age.

"You know what Caitlyn I am glad I asked you to join me. You made me feel a lot better than I had been feeling lately. Thanks for that."

She smiled in appreciation.

"But tell me, you have been watching the news lately, haven't you?"

"Yes, everyday. I daresay it's an occupational hazard."

He nodded. " Then you must have seen all the murders that the Arrow has allegedly committed? Penny for your thoughts regarding this subject."

"Really Oliver. Do you even need to ask? We at Star Labs know it wasn't you. I mean you don't help people for two years and then suddenly start killing them unless you are crazy, which you are not. We know it isn't you."

" Well that's a relief. Back home the cops are out like hounds trying to sniff any trail that I may have left."

" So are you close to catching the people responsible? Wait…is that why you are here? Are they in Central City? Should we be worried?"

"Calm down calm down…the person responsible has a serious beef with me. So he is attacking my city to get to me. He won't be going anywhere until I give him what he wants." he answered as his eyes skittered away from her.

She swore she saw fear in his eyes before he averted them but didn't want to pry any further into the subject considering how cryptic he was being with his answer.

"Oh…..so why are you here? I can only presume it's on Arrow business because even I know you superheroes rarely take breaks."

Oliver smiled at her.

"You really are a persistent little thing aren't you? No wonder Barry thinks so highly of you."

She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Fine…I am gonna tell you…"

Her posture immediately changed. Her shoulders angled towards him in apparent interest and her brows furrowed in concentration.

"But…promise me you won't mention a thing about it to Barry, because if you do, he is gonna drop everything at hand and come looking for a team up, and I can't have that. I know you guys have your hands full with the meta-humans and you don't want Barry distracted at my expense. In fact don't even mention this meeting to them. I want you to keep mum. Can you do that?"

She thought for sometime and then nodded. She even went on to zip her lips in an act of secrecy.

"Okay…you heard about the abduction of the Mayor's daughter on last night's news?"

"Hmmm..yes."

He took a sip and continued, "I am working that case. The kidnappers came into Central City…It's more complicated than it sounds. The plot is all weaved and interweaved together. I don't wanna bore you with the gory details." waved off Oliver.

"Oh please….try me..I am all for gory these days."

Oliver sighed. She really didn't give up and he complied anyway.

"Well…the kidnappers extorted someone to be their patsy for the actual kidnapping. This patsy kidnapped the girl on camera so that the cops would go after him and not know the existence of the second party involved. The cops have no idea what's going on. They are investigating the wrong guy. I caught a whiff of the real kidnappers and I believe they are here. So I am here following them." summed up Oliver in a nutshell.

"These kidnappers…are they dangerous?" asked Caitlyn.

"Very. They are trained professionals. But you know me, I have trained professionals for breakfast." joked Oliver.

She considered this for a moment and then said, "Listen Oliver…I think you should consider asking Barry for help. These kidnappers….they sound dangerous-"

"Caitlyn stop…I can handle it. I can't ask Barry to drop everything and come to my aid."

"But it seems-"

"No buts Caitlyn, I don't wanna talk about it. Let's step away from this subject please. Tell me something else? Tell me how you have been?"

She seemed reluctant to drop the subject but complied to his wishes anyways.

"Well I have been fine. Nothing much going on in my life except meta-humans and Barry."

"You don't sound happy about it." observed Oliver.

"You could say that. Some days I am happy to put a meta-human behind bar and make the city safer but some days I wonder if I put myself through years of education for nothing. I mean I didn't exactly envision myself doing what I do now when I was college." she huffed.

"The particle accelerator accident must have been tough on you, huh?" asked Oliver and silently cursed himself for asking it. It was stupid. The girl lost her fiancé in it.

But she didn't seem to mind.

"Nothing good came out of the particle accelerator. And by nothing I mean nothing at all. I don't seem to understand how Dr. Wells messed up the calculations, but I guess shit happens. I lost Robbie, Dr Well lost his legs, people got turned into meta-humans, Barry's life got turned upside down. The whole city got infected by it. Star Labs is in shambles. It was very generous of Dr Wells to keep us employed. I don't know what I would have done otherwise." answered Caitlyn, her face stoic and her eyes glazed, as though she was imagining a time when everything was perfect.

Oliver looked at her. She was hurting. An important part of her life had been ripped away from her that fateful night but in spite of it all she dedicated the rest of her life to lifting the place, where it happened, out from the shambles. He saw in her a strong, spirited woman who did what she believed in. His respect for her soared to a new level.

"I am sorry about that Caitlyn.." apologized Oliver sincerely. It was a tragedy, one that these people didn't deserve to go through.

She replied his apology with a wry smile, as though she already got enough of those.

" So how is the rebuilding of the lab coming up?" asked Oliver, deciding to take a more innocuous route to their conversation.

"Oh you know. Dr Wells is trying hard to get the work started as quickly as possible. We are taking an inventory of the all the things that were damaged. The left wing is almost gone. I don't thing we will be able to restart the building process at least for the next six months. And on top of that we are low on funds since we're are not manufacturing any products, not that anyone would by anything with our name on it anymore."

He leaned forward, "So you are saying that money is the only constraint right now?"

"Basically yeah. If the particle accelerator would have been a success we would have been a force to be reckoned with in the US. We were planning to branch out. Dr. Well's had envisioned Star Labs on every major city. But right now we are fighting to keep the only one alive."

" You know…I can help you with that." said Oliver as a matter of fact.

Her eyebrows crinkled. She appeared skeptical.

"I know I don't have my company anymore and I am not as rich I used to be. But I still own 30% of the stock in Palmer Tech, however insignificant they are and I can throw a fund raiser for you guys…"

Oliver watched as a multitude of emotion flashed through her face. It was evident from her expression that she was doing some rapid thinking, maybe trying to find the right way to answer. He really wanted to help them. The team in Star Labs single handedly curbed about 70% of the crime in Central City. They deserved a break.

"I don't know…" she began.

"Caitlyn….listen one fund raiser with pals of Oliver Queen and Star Labs can begin rebuilding in next 3 months. You will be half way there. Although if I were to throw you two, you wouldn't need another cent. I may not be as rich, but I still turn heads. I know people in high places. Trust me on this offer, I may be a jerk but when it comes to money I am like a leprechaun." said Oliver.

"I can't really help you with that Oliver. Maybe you should come down to the Lab and pitch your idea to the whole gang. Everyone will be there."

Oliver thought about it. "Ok..if my business here goes well and good..I will drop by the lab tonight."

He sighed and looked around. The crowd was relatively lighter now, but only by a fraction. The jostling was lesser. This cafe was a hub for the working people whose offices were within walking distance. People from different jobs and different posts convened here to get their morning caffeine. Out there people deferred to their rank, social standing and seniority which set every one apart from another but in her everyone had to wait there turn. In here everyone was equal. This was a neutral ground. Everyone came in here for the same reason and they had to wait their turn for their morning fix of ecstasy.

Oliver looked towards the counter; and noticed a small boy standing with his face pressed to the glass window of the counter, gaping at the attractive assortment of sweets. His mom was standing beside him, paying for her order. The boy tugged at his mom's coat sleeve, trying to gain her attention. Once she was done paying, she bent down and turned her gaze towards him.

The boy pointed at something inside the glass window and asked," Mom can I have that?"

His mom looked at him with admonishing eyes and replied with a stern voice, " No, not so early in the morning, baby. You are gonna ruin your appetite."

She dragged the reluctant boy away from the counter, on hand holding him and the other holding a cup of coffee with her bag tucked in between her arm. She struck him as a hard working, career driven mother.

"But mom please….I want to eat.." whined the kid as he was dragged towards the door.

"Jonny…now don't go throwing a tantrum. You promised to behave yourself and that is why I am taking you to work with me today." chastised the mother, as she pushed open the door and walked out with her kid in tow.

This particular conversation triggered a memory of his mother in him. It was one of the earliest memory he had of her. Since her death Oliver had tried very hard to not dwell on it and move past it like he had with others. But it was tough. She would creep into his consciousness and advice, lecture or admonish him depending on the situation. Even death wouldn't keep her away from her son. He missed her.

His earliest memory of her was one where she was taking him to work with her. She would be impeccably dressed in one of her pant suit without a hair out of place. To Oliver, she looked like a beautiful carved statue. Beautiful and perfect. Every curve or flaw of hers was etched in his mind. He remembered how she used to take him to the office with her, and hand him a pad and some crayons. But they would never hold his attention, he was more interested at what she would be doing. He would crawl over to her desk where she would be furiously sweating over her work, and bombard her with a million question thus impeding her from concentrating and forcing her to call his father.

He smiled inwardly at how she would pretend to be angry at him, make him sit in the corner and not talk to him until his father came over. He would give her the puppy dog eyes and try to talk to her but she wouldn't reply. Because of this cold shoulder, sometimes a tear or two would trickle down his eye, but she wouldn't budge. Then his dad would come to rescue him from this demise and then everything would be alright again. His dad would give him one of his brilliant smile, which would brighten his world, and lift him up in his arms laying a kiss on his cheek, promising to take him for an ice-cream. He would then proceed over to his mom and kiss her. She in turn would kiss Oliver in the forehead and all would be forgotten.

After work when she would return home there wouldn't be any sign of exhaustion in her. Her dress would be as pristine as ever, without a crease in sight. She would then force him to have his dinner and then tuck him into bed complete with a story. She was a force of nature and she had always done right by him just like every mother would. He really missed her. Oliver was in a very critical junction in his life and in the past whenever he had been in a twist, his mother had been there to help him. He could really use her help right now.

Somewhere in between growing up, there had been less communication between them and she had grown distant from her family but she made up for it later. Nothing was more important to her than her family. She even died protecting her children. Her death had been unfair. She took the blade for a mistake Oliver committed. He could never forgive himself for it. It was another notch on his list of failures. It was a shadow which he could never outrun. He had to live with it his entire life.

"Oliver…..Oliver…you OK?" called Caitlyn, yanking him out of his thoughts.

He looked at her, the hollow chattering from around filling his ears at once.

"Yeah, yeah…I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You kind of zoned out for a second there…"

He massaged his forehead with his fingers and replied," No, no, I am fine. It's the case. I have had a very long day yesterday and got no sleep."

"Yeah, I can see that. You don't look so good, which for you is pretty difficult. Your eyes are bloodshot and you have dark circles under them…"

"I feel like crap. But it's nothing a little sleep and shower can't fix."

Caitlyn looked at her watch and blenched. "Wow…it's 8:30 already. Time sure flies fast when you are having a good time, huh."

She got up from her stool." Well I must get going. Dr. Well's is gonna be seriously pissed if I don't get in soon, considering I am already late."

Oliver leapt up from his seat too and held out his hand, " Before you leave give me your phone."

" What? Why?" asked Caitlyn dubiously.

"Don't question it Caitlyn…just hand it over."

She shrugged then fished out her phone from her bag and handed it to Oliver.

He worked on the phone for few moments and then handed it back to her.

"I have programmed my number in it. Call me if you need anything. Don't hesitate."

"Wow…Oliver Queen's number in my phonebook. Wait till Ronnie hears about it." she said and smiled at him.

"Well, don't just let it sit there and gather dust. Call for anytime. I am never busy for my friends."

" Ok thanks. See you later." she waved and walked towards the door.

"Don't be a stranger…" he called after her.

After she left, he plopped down on the stool. It was nice that he got to chat with Caitlyn. It was refreshing. He never get the chance to do something like this at home. Sit back, relax and gossip over a cup of coffee. Fate or circumstances would usually frown down upon him.

He lifted his cup and drained the last remaining drops of coffee. His time in the fairy land was up. It was time to return to the real life and deal with the problem.

it had been 15 hours now since the kidnapping. And according to law enforcement, the trail of a kidnapper grows cold after the first 24 hours. So taking into consideration everything; he had around 9 to 10 house left on the clock. Felicity was supposed to text him the address of the property owned by Adam Stone. Maybe the search was still going on. After all back home none of them were going to rest until the girl was home safely. And Oliver was going to do the same here.

He exited the cafe and stood out under the sun soaking in it's warmth. The weather was caught between autumn and winter. A light chilliness hung in the air and made the coat which he was wearing necessary. But as the day progressed, a warmth fused into the chilliness forcing everyone to take their multiple layers of cloths off.

Central City was a very bright city. Lots of light and space. It had a different feel to it. The buildings rose so high up in the sky that looking up would strain anyone's neck. Oliver looked up at the nearby building. It's glass windows glinted in the sun. The people on the streets moved in a hive, just like bees - buzzing and moving with determined pace. The luscious aroma of coffee and bakery exuding from the cafe occasionally luring people in from their humdrum routine.

Oliver whipped out his phone and tapped open his messages to check if Felicity had sent him the address. There were no new messages. He was worried now. They had to hurry otherwise the trail which he was following would grow cold. Sitting ideal was making him fidgety. Sure sitting and talking to Caitlyn had been pleasant and had kept his mind off of things, but now that he was alone, the strong currents of reality was pulling him along for a ride.

He buttoned up his coat, pulled up the lapels and moved towards the swarming crowd. When suddenly, someone crashed into him, hard, stopping him on the spot. He steadied the person by the shoulders, an apology ready to sprout from his tongue when a familiar face looked up at him. Wait…he knew her.

"Sarah Hawke…we have got to stop meeting like this." said Oliver with a smile, his eyes laced with mirth.

What were the odds. Twice he came to Central City and twice he ran into her. It felt more like a universal conspiracy than a coincidence. The universal was constantly lobbing his past mistakes on his face.

"Oliver…" exclaimed Sarah, clearly taken aback. Her eye widened and eyebrows shot north. She took a few steps back, her mind reeling at this chance encounter.

"What's the rush?"

"I was..uh.." she mumbled few words incoherently. Her eyes were dazed and it was clear that she was doing some fast thinking.

She shook herself out of her haze and replied without a smile. " I am late for work. Got held up at home.."

"Well then I will let you get back to it. I will make myself scarce. It was good to see you Sarah."

Oliver bade her farewell and started walking towards the curb when..

"Oliver…." Sarah called from behind him.

He turned around, surprised.

She walked towards him in a brisk manner.

"Oliver I want you to join me for a cup of coffee. There are certain things that we have to discuss."

Oliver grimaced. This was what he he had been dreading. A walk down memory lane. He could only see this conversation going one way and that was south. He was skeptical and wanted to decline the offer, but he had hurt this girl already and she deserved closure.

"Look Oliver, eventually we have to address the matter between us and I think now is a good a time as any."

"But what about work? I thought you were late." pointed out Oliver.

"Well that's the thing about being self employed. You can make your own schedule.." stated Sarah with a smile.

"Oh…"

"So what do you say? Coffee…well that is if you are not busy…I mean I wouldn't wanna impose."

Oliver smiled at her. Leave it to her to force him to stay as subtly as possible. She left him no choice. He checked his phone again. No messages. What the hell, he thought. He didn't have to be anywhere right now. At least not until he received that text from Felicity.

"Very well…Let's go." agreed Oliver.

Ten minutes later, Oliver found himself on the same booth as before but only with Sarah Hawke sitting across from him. She sat there silently slurping away her coffee and keenly avoid eye contact with him. He looked at her closely. She looked different now than back in Starling City. Most people would say it was age but to him it was not only that. There was not only an indelible physical change but also a psychological one. She was more mature and sure of herself, not that awkward girl he had known back then. Her eyes told the true story of what she had been through. She was giving off a vibe, a vibe which could be construed as self confidence. This vibe was also telling the story of a woman who had gone through a crucible and had gotten better for it, much like himself. He couldn't put his finger to it yet, there was something different about her.

" You seem different." began Oliver slowing, trying to get the conversation flowing.

Her head shot up, eyes narrowed.

"Really, that's all you have got to say?" said Sarah calmly.

He looked at her nervously. This conversation was going to be very uncomfortable.

"Hey, I am only trying to start a conversation. We have been sitting here for the last five minutes with nothing but dead air between us. It was getting awkward and uncomfortable." reasoned Oliver.

"You mean more awkward and uncomfortable than it already is." countered Sarah.

He shrugged at her and grinned sheepishly.

"Look Oliver…eventually we have to address the huge elephant in the room."

"Yeah…about that." jumped in Oliver. "I am really sorry, I-"

"No, no….you don't get to do that. Apology isn't going to be enough for what you put me through." snapped Sarah, pointing her finger at him.

Oliver was taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor. She looked like a feral cat ready to pounce on her prey. It seemed he had touched a nerve.

Seeing Oliver's reaction, she instantly regretted her angry outburst. She needed to keep a tight lid on her emotions, if she wanted to come out of the other end unscathed. This was a delicate situation and had to be trudged around carefully.

"I'm sorry….. I didn't mean to snap at you. That was totally uncalled for." apologized Sarah.

"No, you are right. My apology isn't worth a dime compared to what you have gone through. I am sorry for that. I'm-"

"Oliver you don't-"

"No, listen to me Sarah. I need to let it all out. All the mistakes that I had committed back then, they have been riding me hard. No matter what I do, I cannot atone for them. They always find a way to seep in through the stream of time and haunt me. But all my crimes and sins do not compare to what I have put you through. And I am sorry for that. I was an asshole to you. I poisoned everything that I touched. If I could go back in time and change it I would. But the fact of the matter is that I can't. And all I can do is apologize. I am not asking you to forgive me because no sane person would after what I did to you, and you are one of the sanest person I know, but I want you to know that I regret not doing right by you back then.…"

She looked at him and shivered at the sincerity in his eyes. He was indeed sorry. Now she was stumped for words. She wasn't expecting this. This wasn't how this was supposed to turn out. She always thought that she could handle having a heart to heart with Oliver about the incident if they ever met and she would give him a piece of her mind, but now, sitting here, listening to him pour his emotions out, she couldn't muster up even a tinge of the wrath and hatred that she had for him back then. She thought she could handle it, but now as that bridge had been crossed she didn't want to plow any further into the unknown. All she wanted to do was turn around and cuddle up in the comfort and safety of the known.

But she had to do it. She had to make things right with him.

The man sitting in front of her was changed man. That much she was sure of. Changed but broken. She could see it clearly. Maybe the island had changed him in more ways then he lets on, surmised Sarah.

Oliver looked at her. She was seething. She didn't display it on the surface but her eyes said so. They were on fire and screaming. Screaming for release from the pain.

Her concentration was fixed on the styrofoam cup but her mind was elsewhere. He didn't want to interrupt her peace.

His conscience felt a lot lighter since he let this feeling off his chest. He had been carrying it around with him for a long time now. But then again looking at her stoic and emotionless exterior he realized that he could never purge himself of this sin. He would have to live with it his whole life. Eventually it might get easier but then he was not very hopeful.

"You know….I was so angry…" she began still not looking up at him, her voice quivering ever so lightly. "….at you I mean….so very angry. I am usually a calm person but right then when you abandoned me…I was furious….There were times when I went to bed angry and crying….I was so scared, Oliver. I was so young…and when you didn't reply back to my calls, I felt so alone and lost." , her voice broke and a sob broke out of her chest but it didn't deter her.

" And then your mom called…I was so happy. I felt hopeful…..So I went to your home. It was so large…..my subconscious mind was playing tricks on me. I was happy to imagine that my child would be fortunate enough to grow up in a big house….but it was not to be-"

"Stop..please…Sarah…" begged Oliver. He couldn't take it anymore. Hearing about it from her perspective was immensely painful. He felt angry…angry at himself…at his former self for destroying this girl's life.

He reached out and took her hands in his and squeezed it lightly. She grew stiff at the contact initially but relaxed eventually. "Please Sarah….don't do this. I know I deserve it, a hundred times… but you don't. You don't have to walk down this painful memory….You don't deserve it. You have already been through a lot. Please don't subject yourself to such pain, at least not on my account. I am already going to hell for this, my place is reserved there. I already sold my soul Sarah..you still have yours. Hold on to it. Let go of the anger. Don't look down on yourself. You have to let go of….move on. Let me subject myself to the pain of my failings for the both of us….Hey Sarah…look at me…you can even punch me if you want."

She chuckled at his lame attempt at levity in such a severe situation. She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

He let go of her hand and said softly, "You are an amazing woman Sarah Hawke and I am sorry that I was not there by your side when you needed me the most. Your past might have injured you, but don't let it leave a scar on you. Don't get me wrong they are a part of who you are. They have guided you, molded you. Now it's up to you to move on and forge an new and wonderful life for yourself which I presume you already have. Look at me; my mistakes are weighing me down to the bottom of the ocean. They have broken me beyond repair. And I deserve it. Don't let my mistake deter you from trying to live your life to the fullest. If anyone deserves a happy ending, it's you."

She wiped her eyes and smiled at him for diffusing this intense situation and making her feel better. She indeed felt a lot better. Her anger had subsided now making way for admiration for the man sitting across from her.

"You have changed too you know." she said. "You are no longer that self centered, reckless, irresponsible boy you once were. This front that you put on is to masquerade what you have really become. You are more calm and controlled. You are more self-assured. That island really changed you didn't it."

He chuckled, " I don't know what you are talking about. Believe me when I say it, I am still that same man that got lost in sea all those years ago, the only difference is that I am more damaged now then I was before. And since my return, I have committed mistakes after mistake which has had some serious consequences."

" Huh! All this time lecturing me about my mistakes and getting over them; and you can't get over your own. What? You can dish advices but you can't take your own. You can't fault yourself for the mistakes you commit Oliver. Shit happens. Once done there is no way it can be undone. You have to move on from them. You can't sit around wallowing about it in the corner. It will only make you sick. Mistakes are what makes you who you are Oliver and you have to grow to love that person otherwise you will be miserable in life." she said, throwing his own words back at her.

"You know that's the second time someone said that to me today." he said with a smile. He really appreciated her attempt to make him see reason.

"And it's true. If you don't accept the person you have become, fault and all, how will you be in peace with yourself?"

Oliver sighed. " Peace….to me Sarah, peace has always been subjective. I mean, what is peace? How can a man be peaceful when his fellow men are out in this gross unrest? I never could quite understand the meaning of peace."

"It's all about your opinion Oliver. You have to know yourself fully to understand it. Maybe you have found it and don't know it yet. Maybe for you peace is something which is tangible…something attainable…a goal perhaps which once you attain, you can let go of everything. For me peace is fugacious. It's fleeting. It can't be captured or bought. It can only exist as a state of mind."

"That is some serious psychoanalysis stuff. You are not a shrink by any chance are you?" exclaimed Oliver.

"Now that you mention it, I am. I have my own private practice." stated Sarah.

Oliver leaned back on his stool. "So does that mean I have to pay you for this hour? Some people hate this shrink stuff, but I don't care. You were already healing me."

She laughed. " No, I won't be charging you today. Although you can always come to my office if you want your psyche poked."

" As appealing as it sounds I think I will pass on the offer. I am already crazy up there. Wouldn't want anyone else poking in there now, would we?." joked Oliver.

The conversation was getting comfortable now. The palpable tension which was hanging between them had waned. They had talked their problems through and gotten some kind of closure.

Suddenly Oliver's phone chimed. He whipped it out and checked the screen. There was a message from Felicity. He tapped on it and the address of the property popped up.

He had had his fun, now reality was calling. He had to go.

"Sarah…listen…it was really nice talking to you…but I have got to go. I have some important business to take care of. I am really sorry to walk out on you like that.."

"Oliver…you don't have to apologize for everything. I understand that you have to go." said an amused Sarah.

He slipped out of his stool, collected his coat up from the table when..

"Wait…"

Oliver looked at her with an amused expression. Now what?, he thought.

She got up from her stool, rummaged for something inside her bag. From within, she pulled out a sharpie and moved around the table to where he was standing. She then took the coat from his arm, dropped it on the table and yanked open the palm of his left hand. With the sharpie held upright in her hand she wrote down something on his palm. He felt the sharp tip of the sharpie tingle his palm.

She let go of his hand once she was done. He looked down at his palm to see what she had written and then at her questioningly.

"That's my address. I want you to come down to my place before you leave for Starling city." She answered.

"What? Why?" asked Oliver, clearly confused now. Why the hell is she inviting me to her place?, he thought.

"Because there are certain things that your mother gave me when I went to see her and I want you to have them back. They are yours." she explained.

"Sarah…..whatever my mother gave to you, you should keep them. They were meant for you. I don't want them."

"No, Oliver. This is for you, trust me. There are certain things you don't know. It's time you knew and took care of them. After all she was your mother and she loved you." she said, with determination burning in her eyes.

" What are you talking about?" asked Oliver dubiously.

"Everything will fall into place once you come to my place. Your mother was a good woman. She gave me an option which turned out to be best for the both of us. I am sorry about her death. You should be proud of her."

"I am…very." emphasized Oliver.

"Listen….promise me you will come. Promise me. It's time for you to see for yourself what your mother did for you, Oliver. Before you leave…promise me you will come…." , she kept on saying it like a mantra.

" You are being way cryptic about it, but if it makes you feel better I will come. I promise."

"Thank you…..well then goodbye Oliver. It was nice to clear up the air between us. I will see you later then."

"Ok…goodbye Sarah." nodded Oliver and walked out of the cafe for what was the second time today.

The air outside was considerably less chilly now, a lot more pleasant. His coat would not be required now. But even then it would not deter the fire which was beginning to rage inside of him. The fire which raged through him every time he thought about his other life. This fire kept him plowing through his one man crusade against crime and injustice, day in day out. The mere prospect of slipping into his other persona set about a tingle in his body….a tingle of anticipation. As though his mind and soul was welcoming the Arrow.

This is the furthest Oliver Queen would go. The edge of the cliff. Looking down at the chasm.

Beyond that, it would be the Arrow.

He turned right around the corner of the street and disappeared like smoke in the midst of the crowd.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Oliver slapped his cheek, squashing the mosquito that has been buzzing in his ear for the last five minutes.

He was currently 5 miles outside Central City. The address sent to him by Felicity, led him here. He had been perched on a branch of a tree for the last two hours, scoping the warehouse out. His field glass was out and pressed to his eyes.

This was the property that belonged to Adam Stone - a warehouse. A large, desolate, run of the mill warehouse, with dilapidated walls. The door was bent and broken in places. It was a wonder that the door was still standing considering the condition it was in. He noticed that the door had a large, new lock which hung in it's place like a priceless ornament The walls may have had a burnt sienna color back in the day but now it was greased over by a charcoal black layer of dirt. The original color was lost underneath it. And the walls were also festooned with graffitis and spray paints, something which he surmised was the work of teenager. he squinted in his field glass. The paint used for the graffiti was bright and shiny under the gleaming sunlight compared to the dull colored walls. They must have been made a couple of weeks ago, give or take. Shrubberies and vines creeped up along the walls of the building.

The warehouse was surrounded by rows and rows of trees from all side. It was like a small child standing in the centre of a congregation of adults, looking up at array of trees began 50 meters away from the warehouse. These trees spread over a long area, covering tracts and tracts of land in the distance.

The windows were papered shut from the inside and there was no way to see inside from his position. There was a black van parked near the warehouse. He inferred that it was the same van used in the abduction because of the mud stains running along the it's side and the tires. It had rained last night in Starling City so it was natural that the van caught some mud stains. Judging by the now dried mud stains, the van had been here for the past 6-7 hours. He was not sure if the girl was in the warehouse right now but she had been brought here at sometime in the past few hours.

The whole scenery was silent. Maybe too silent. The only sound was that of the leaves whistling in the breeze, which was blowing in from behind him and the occasional chirping of birds. And nothing else. Heavy tufts of clouds hung in the dull afternoon sky. They were all thick and dense like cottons hanging in the air. The hot afternoon sun was peeking in from behind one of the clouds, splaying it's light all over the place. He was feeling a bit warm in his suit. Afternoons were warmer here than in Starling City. The bark of the tree chaffed the palm of his hand through his glove as he shifted uncomfortably to get a better view. It was all very pleasant outside, which was no indication of what was brewing inside the warehouse. A blanket of calm and eerie silence was thrown over the place, as though there was not even the sliver of a possibility that this place could be used as a hideout. To him it felt like a lull before a storm. He was sure of it. There was a storm coming, which would sweep this place to kingdom come. He could feel it.

There was nothing odd about the warehouse that would raise some kind of red flag. It was a normal, run of the mill one which had been abandoned. And Oliver had climbed one of the trees in the woods to scope out the place. The thin road trail which led to this warehouse from the main road snaked in through these woods. The trail was barely visible as it was covered by layers of variegated dried leaves which fell from the trees. The whole floor of the woods was covered by leaves, branches and twigs. Thus it was close to impossible to hear anyone approaching as the sound of their footsteps was masked by these.

But it was not so for Oliver. Being a hunter and having spent five years getting acquainted to this kind of environment he did not face any difficulty in maneuvering himself here. He was in his element. This wilderness reminded him of the island. All those days he spent trying to hone his vigorous instinct of survival, by scoping the island, came rushing back to him. The woods brought back the disposition that his mind had back on that island. The greenery, the wisp of the branches and the leaves really took him back to that time. Down here his sense of vision, smell and hearing were enhanced.

It didn't feel like there was someone inside. All the points of entry were firmly shut in. The leaves, on the ground leading up to the warehouse, were all level and smooth with no sign of disturbance. But from 50 meters out he could only spitball. It was like groping in the dark. He had to get close to the warehouse to deduce more and more importantly, he had to get in covertly.

Hiding here amidst the trees in his suit, he was camouflaged like a chameleon. But once he was clear off the trees, there was no guarantee that whoever was inside didn't have a machine gun mounted anywhere that would rip him to shreds before he could even reach the door. And there was also a chance that he was just over thinking it and there is no real danger lurking behind the door. It was a gamble which was risky.

He was perched atop this branch for the past two hours. And he could not feel his back anymore. The lower part of his body had fallen asleep. He had get down. He had to take the chance. If the girl was in there then he had to get in now. She needed him right now. There was no use wasting time.

So letting this thought embolden his spirit and determination, he jumped from the branch which was at least 12 feet from the ground. He landed with a soft thump as leaves from the ground shuffled and fluttered up from the ground. As soon as his feet touched the ground, his knees buckled and he collapsed on the ground. The fall was cushioned by the bed of leaves on the ground. He groaned, as the pain from the fall spread through his body. His legs were numb and couldn't support the fall. He started massaging his calf muscles to get the blood circulating.

He got up gingerly after feeling returned to his legs. He made his way to the warehouse. Walking in between the tall trees which cast shadows all over, he looked like the grim reaper, wandering around in the dark woods to collect the soul of his next victim. Twigs and dried leaves crunched under his feet. He moved forward, out of the shelter of the woods and into the no man's land separating the warehouse from the trees.

He crouched low and darted forward, all the while trying to draw as less attention as possible towards himself from who ever was inside. As he covered the distance to the warehouse rapidly, his eyes skittered rapidly across the warehouse while his mind was busy contemplating all the viable entry points which would give him the element of surprise.

The front door maybe?

No, it was out of question. It was way too obvious.

The windows then?

Nope. They were pretty high up and they had to be shattered. It would alert everyone. He might as well be wearing a bell around his neck.

The roof!

There had to be a point of entry up there. There always was.

He sprinted forward and shot a grappling arrow towards the top of the warehouse. It soared upwards, arched down and impaled itself on the roof. Them he felt the churning of gears in his bow and the unmistakable tug upward as he felt his legs leave the ground. The arrow pulled him upward and he landed on the roof.

The roof was in an abysmal condition. Shards of broken glasses, dried leaves and scraps of rusted metals lay strewn on the floor. A strong, putrid stench hit his nose and he cringed. There were three garbage bins in the corner. One had trash overflowing and piling up at it's foot. The other was empty and was just rolling around on the ground. The third one was worse. It had tumbled over and the trash had spilled out. There was a swarm of fly buzzing around it. Oliver drifted as far away from it as he could. He didn't even want to contemplate what kind of diseases could manifest from there.

There was a trap door on the ground in front of him. It must lead to the attic, he thought. Entry through the attic seemed like a good idea. If there was anyone inside then he could take them by surprise. The door was locked but he had expected it. It was made of wood and the constant exposure to heat and rain had worn it down. Small chips of wood were breaking off from it. It was weak. So he pulled back and kicked at it hard. The door gave way and broke off. There was a small ladder which ran down to the attic. He jumped down and looked around the attic. It was dusty, with lots of cobwebs around the corner. There was a metal cot with lots of sacks kept on it. Sunlight steamed in through the open trap door, which made the eddying dust in the room visible.

He had to move fast. He made a bee line for the door which connected the attic to the other. It was open. On the other side was a spiral staircase which went down to the next level. The place was dark and cold. He swiftly descended down the staircase, his boots clanking on the metal.

Stepping down from the last stair he came face to face with a wall. The wall once had a pristine whitewash but was now smeared with grease stains. He quickly glanced towards his left and right. He realized he was in a long, narrow passageway. Towards his right side, a couple of steps from where he was standing was another wall with a window on it. Unlike the one's on the front of the warehouse, this was not papered from inside. The glass pane was full of scratches and very dirty. He did not have a clear view of the outside but could make out the sway of the leaves and trees outside.

Towards the left, the passage way continued for about 25 steps and then abruptly ended. There were three rooms on both sides of the wall each. They didn't have any door. Unobstructed sunlight streaming in through the one's on the left, and illuminated the passageway.

He turned left and moved towards the rooms and entered the one on the left. He shielded his eye from the glaring light filtering into the room unbridled. His eyes adjusted quickly and he look around. It looked like a store room. But now it was sparse. There was a sand bag lying on the ground with sand spilling out of it and a steel chair which sat in the corner quietly. The window pane was shattered and glass pieces lay strewn on the floor. There was nothing to see here. So he moved to the next one which also told the same story. These rooms used to be store rooms once when the warehouse was functional.

The next room had a steel rack pushed against the wall. There were a couple of sacks on the lower bunk of the rack, which he guessed was lime because of the stench which enveloped the room. Next couple of rooms were empty and the rest were either littered with dirt or filled with junk. Nothing of use. There was no sign of anything which would be considered significant to the case. But he didn't let this deter him. After all he had only scoured twenty percent of the building. There was always hope left.

Oliver barraged past the rooms and reached the end of the passageway, or so he thought. It wasn't the end. The passageway turned to the right and continued on. He turned right and walked forward slowly. It was dark and constricted. He walked forward gingerly, wary of his surroundings. Treading forward carefully, he came to a stop in front of another stairwell, which went down. The stench here was vile. It smelled of mould and what not. He depended very highly on his olfactory senses and this stench was really impeding it.

He crept down the stairwell very carefully, bow clenched in his right hand and his left already holding a nocked arrow in position. It was better to be safe than sorry. He didn't know what to expect and couldn't depend entirely on his sight, considering how dark it was. His sense of sight and smell were heightened under this intense circumstance. He could hear his own heart pounding in his chest and the blood gushing in his ears. Adrenaline was racing in his bloodstream.

There was no threat as of yet. He cleared the first landing and started descending the next. He made no noise while moving. His ears were open at all time, trying to glean even the dimmest sound from the surrounding. Right now he could hear a pin drop in the distance and shoot it. But there were no sound. It was all quiet. Too quiet for his liking. It was making him nervous and paranoid, which was good for him, because paranoia had served him well in the past. He reached the base of the stairwell and looked around.

He had reached the entrance of a cavernous hall. It was sparse, vacant and dismal much like the rest of the place. The ceiling was at least 15 feet high. The rows of windows were high up on the wall and were all papered shut from the inside. Light crept in through the crevices in between the papers. In front of him were four rows of steel racks positioned at an equal distance from each other. Countless number of sacks lay on them. They were all haphazardly positioned. Layers and layer of dust and grime were ingrained over them. Clusters of dried lime and cement were sticking to the floor, because of their exposure to air. A dull, yellow light peeked in through the racks from somewhere deep within the hall, partially illuminating the constricted space.

Oliver carefully maneuvered himself between the racks and moved towards the light, hopeful to discover something. All the while his bow was held in front of him with a arrow already nocked in it. Any kind of disturbance and a bolt of death would zoom through the air and impale itself at the heart of the source. The air was getting heavy with anticipation as he moved forward and his intuition was begging him to take a U turn. He moved past the steel rack into an empty area, into the heart of the hall and what he saw made his heart stop beating for a second.

He couldn't believe his eyes. Someone must be playing tricks on him.

There, no more than 8 feet in front of him was the girl whom he had been searching for. He was so sure that she wouldn't be here. He had just come in here looking for clue that would lead him to her and…..there she was. It was a gift horse in the mouth. He couldn't quiet believe it. It was too good to be true.

The girl was slumped on a steel chair in the middle of the clear area. There, above her was the dim light bulb which bathed her in it's incandescent glow. He couldn't make out her face because her brilliant auburn hair veiled it from his view. Her head was drooped down. She was tied to the chair.

Oliver threw caution to the wind and sprinted to the girl. He shifted his bow to his left hand and the arrow which was nocked to it clanked down on the floor. He pulled a flechette from his forearm and cut through her bindings. She sagged into his arms. He carefully laid her on the ground and brushed her errant hair to check her face. It was unscathed. There wasn't a scratch in sight. Except that her skin was really pale and her lips were chapped. It was due to dehydration. He heaved a sigh of relief. At least they hadn't touched her. That would have been lewd and he wasn't sure if he could have been able to reel his anger in if they had.

He put his finger to her neck to check for her pulse. It was there, but was faint and weak. The rhythm was erratic. She was fine or at least she would be with some medical assistance. He needed to pull her out of unconsciousness at the very least. So he switched off his voice modulator. She needed to hear a friendly voice.

He tapped her lightly on the cheek and called out, "Hey, Margaret….you need to wake up…you are safe now…."

But she wouldn't wake. Instead she started moaning and mumbling something incoherent. Her brows furrowed. Bubbles sprouted and burst from the corner of her mouth. But her eyes wouldn't open. It appeared as if she was in discomfort but couldn't do much about it. He lifted an eyelid and checked. Everything was fine. But why wouldn't she wake up?

Maybe the kidnappers dosed her with something.

He had to get her out of here and to the nearest medical centre.

Just as he was about to lift her up on his shoulders, he heard something. He let her be and bolted like a spring to his full height, bow ready in is hand.

It was a soft staccato of footstep coming in from the other side of the steel racks which he had come across before. And it was coming towards him. The person was not even trying to muffle the sound of his footsteps. Each footstep sounded like a hammer pounding a nail. It reverberated across the hall cutting through the silence like a sharp edged knife.

Then it stopped abruptly.

The person came to a halt in front of him, just enough to stay in the shadow.

Was this person playing some kind of game with him? Trying to intimidate him. He could make out the silhouette of the person. He couldn't make out if it was a man or a woman.

He took a deep breathe, relaxed his body by lowering his already frantic heart beat and spread his legs. His hand plunged into his quiver and yanked an arrow out which he nocked to his bow. He pulled the draw string and raised the bow level with his chest, and aimed it at the silhouette. One wrong move and there would be a dead body lying right in front of him. He was not in a mind to play games. The condition of the girl was unknown. She needed medical attention. This was serious matter.

"Whoever you are come out and show your face…keep playing with me and I will not hesitate to put you down." growled Oliver, malice dripping from his mouth as he tasted the anger in his tongue. He was pissed.

The words boomed across the hall like thunder. It was enough to make anyone jump out of their skin.

Then suddenly the person in question stepped into the light from the shadows. Recognition dawned on him, which was accompanied by confusion. His face contorted giving words to his jumbled up thoughts.

The bow slowly descended from it's upright position as he loosened his hold on the drawstring. His mind was reeling with confusion. Questions popped up in his mind at an alarming rate.

What was going on here?

"What the hell are you doing here?" exclaimed Oliver.

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Author's note: I would like to begin by thanking everyone for the follows, favorites and the reviews. Seriously guys, on a bad day those are what boosts me up and helps me to continue writing.

It has been three weeks since my last upload and believe me when I say this, the last three weeks have been crazy. The first week I had exams, so I bailed on writing. Then the second week I got ill and lost my voice. I croaked like a frog and was the brunt of every jokes cracked by my friends. I got all the work done on the last week. It is the longest chapter I have written so far and the toughest. Conjuring up the images and the details were easy enough but to bleed them on paper…..well let's just say I have a new found appreciation for all the writers out there.

You might have noticed a tangible difference in the tone of this chapter. It is lighter compared to the gritty and sordid stuffs from the previous chapters. Well it comes with the territory. I brought Oliver over to Central city, so I stepped off the pedal a little bit. Here he deals with a different set of problems. It is something which he has never faced before. Sure put him in a room full of mercenaries, he will meet them head on. But when emotional problems comes knocking he skirts around them. The man is wounded tighter than I bolt and I hope to loosen him up.

So I implore you to follow, favorite and review because they fuel the drive to write. And I will hopefully upload the next chapter in approximately two to three weeks time. Please review in galore…


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER-6

"Amanda….", he whispered into the darkness. "What the hell are you doing here?"

His mind was reeling. Her presence here was perplexing. He couldn't find a viable reason for it. Questions started tumbling around in his head, searching for an outlet. Amanda Waller was the last of all person he had expected to find here.

The person in question took a step forward, the sound of her clicking heels echoing across the large hall. Incandescent light from the bulb swept over her face, making her brilliant ivory skin glow. She was as usual dressed impeccably; in a charcoal black pant suit with a blinding white shirt which peeked out from underneath the suit. Her clothes seemed like a second skin to her. They flowed effortlessly along with her movements. Her hair was pulled back in a firm bun. Everything about her clothing spoke perfection. She had a natural sway to her which demanded everyone's attention and respect. And this made people uncomfortable and terrified around her.

"Hello Oliver. It's good to see you." she greeted him, as if it was the most natural thing to do under the circumstance. Her steely, mechanical voice cut through the heavy air between them like knife cutting meat. She was a master manipulator and her voice was her tool which she effectively used to coax information out of anyone and make them comply to her. This combination of obstinance, will and the ability to voice them made people crumble before her.

She started gliding effortlessly towards her left, all the while keeping her eyeball on him. A soft ghost of a smile played on her lips, which only added to his ire.

"I am gonna ask you again…..What the hell are you doing here?…What is really going on here?…..Has ARGUS been following this case?" snarled Oliver, his gaze followed her as she moved across the space in front of him.

"Oh…Oliver, relax." she said with a false, lofty tone as if she was speaking to a child. "You don't need to concern yourself with ARGUS. You have more pressing matters which needs your attention right now."

It was clear that he wasn't going to get any answer out of her. If she wanted to then she would answer him on her own account.

"You know what Amanda? I don't have time for your cryptic games. Spare me your excuses….I don't care why you are here. But since you are here, you might as well help me with the kid." he spat and turned his back to her and scuttled towards the girl, who was lying still on the floor.

She was in a bad condition and needed medical attention right away.

He kneeled down beside the girl and swept her hair out of her face. She was knocked out cold, and was sweating, excessively. Her forehead glistened with sweat as few strands of hair were matted to it. This is a new development, he observed. She seemed to be fine a few minutes ago, well fine compared to the current situation. Her conditions were worsening. Hospital was what she needed immediately.

"Amanda" growled Oliver. "Stop breathing down my neck and make yourself useful. Call 911. This girl is in a bad condition. She needs medical attention as soon as possible. Hurry."

He turned around and cradled the girl's head in his lap. He tried wiping the sweat off her face. While he did that, he was expecting to hear Amanda call the emergency line, but his expectation was met with silence. She wasn't calling anyone.

His neck snapped around to check what she was up to and noticed her standing statue-like five steps behind him. Her arm were folded and she was staring at him intently with those soul less onyx eyes as the flickering light danced across her face, giving her a sinister look. It made his skin prickle.

" Amanda!…What the hell is wrong with you? Make the call." cried Oliver.

"I can't." replied Amanda, her lips barely moving.

Oliver's brows furrowed at her reply.

"What do you mean you can't?"

She stepped closer and replied," I can't because there are standard issue ARGUS signal jammers mounted everywhere around the compound. No signal can come in or go out. So no phone call."

Oliver frowned. Either he had lost his mind or someone was trying to play an elaborate joke on him.

"ARGUS signal jammers….What in the name of Christ are you playing at here? Because let me tell you I am not in the mood to play. This girl is DYING." he bellowed, anger getting the better of him.

"The girl is fine." stated Amanda, not at all intimidated by his outburst. There was a half smirk on her face now. She seemed to be enjoying herself.

It only made Oliver angrier. Something was not right here. He could sense it. His instincts was telling him so. His skin was tingling.

"She has been drugged with XF-25. It's new, in case you were wondering. Ever since we caught Floyd Lawton, ARGUS has been trying to fine tune Curare. It's not as deadly or fatal as Curare, mind you but XF-25 is useful in other ways. It has got a faster reaction time than Curare, and it renders the victim catatonic, while leaving the olfactory system open. This is the first time it has been used on field. She won't wake up until I administer the anti dote but she can hear everything we are speaking now. And one more thing which I love about the drug, it renders the person susceptible to suggestions at a controlled level. That is I just have to say a few words to wipe certain memories of her. Efficient and effective, isn't it?"

All this new information felt like a punch in the gut. His mind was reeling and spinning in overdrive. He stumbled backwards a few steps, unable to comprehend the matter. It was so messed up. ARGUS had kidnapped the girl. But why? They were the good guys. It was unfathomable. He needed answer.

"Amanda… you set this up…..you kidnapped her…..but why?". He took few steps forward towards her. He had to look her in the eye when she answered.

"Hah!…Why you ask? Oliver can't you figure it out yet. To draw you out of Starling of course. You are at the the center of it after all.." she replied cryptically.

He growled and darted towards her, nocked an arrow and pointed it at her forehead. Light glinted off the sharp tip of the arrow. He dared her to make a move. This new information which had come to light was making him see red.

She remained still and her expression segued from phlegmatic to grim. Apparently this move did not sit well with her. She fixed him with an steely gaze for a few seconds and scoffed at his attempt at intimidation. She lifted her hand gingerly with resolve and a manicured finger pushed the arrow out of her face.

"Oh please Oliver! Is this your half-assed attempt at intimidation? Tsk..Tsk..you seemed to have lost your edge. If I remember Hong Kong well, you were a lot more intimidating and resourceful back then. Now you are just a dead weight. A far cry from the man I knew back then. You are a husk, all flaccid and empty. You are a burnout. You think you have it in you to kill me and walk away from here?" she spitted out.

"You don't want to find out what I am capable of." said Oliver through gritted teeth, all the while standing his ground.

"Oh I know exactly what you are capable of Oliver. Nothing. Yes, you heard it…Nothing. You were effective once, but now you are just in the way. Back then you swooped down on the streets and single handedly cleared Starling City off organized crime but now you are the sole reason innocent people are dying daily. How is that weighing on your soul, huh? What are you doing about that?"

He loosened his grip on the bow put it down from it's upright position and considered her words carefully.

"Amanda..What the hell are you taking about? What does all the killings in Starling City have to do with this kidnapping you pulled off?"

She slowly started pacing around him, her heels clicking rhythmically on the floor.

"Everything is connected Oliver. Everything will fall in place once you know all the variables of the equation. This is just a small part in the grand scheme of things. And you know what Oliver….everything that is happening and everything that will happen, you are right at the centre of it. You are accountable and responsible for everything."

"Tell me right now…what are you planning?"

"Yeah,…I think I might. Considering what is coming your way, it won't even matter if you know….now anyway." she said in an obscure manner.

Oliver tensed at her words. "What is coming my way?"

"You don't need to concern yourself with that right now. There are certain things you should know before we get to that…"

He grunted in response, urging her to elaborate.

She stopped pacing and turned towards him. Taking in a deep breath, she began.

"You have become an embarrassment Oliver. Embarrassment not only to the police department of Starling City but also to the President and the nation as a whole. Your very existence is a dark stain in the face of the US. Governments of other countries frown down upon your actions ,deeming our government responsible for it. You see….few years ago people feared us. We were a force to be reckoned with. Countries in conflict with us thought twice about waging war against us. We had troops in the Gulf nations where their people willingly welcomed us to help maintain peace and rein control. Our words were the law. But now…..you shattered the very image we created about a world without terror, a world with laws so stringent that anyone breaking it will be dealt with extremely."

"Our enemies have now become more menacing. There is an uprising among certain factions. Dangerous factions. The kinds we have been keeping an eye on for decades. You have opened their eyes. They believe that if a single man can rupture the judicial system of our nation, commit all kinds of crimes, right under our nose nonetheless and still manage to elude the authorities,…..well then so can they. You are weakening our armor from within Oliver. It's not long before someone pierces it."

"So what are you trying to say? I am the reason for all the terrorism taking place here…."

"Not directly, no. But you are certainly not helping. You know very well vigilantism is not tolerated here or anywhere else for that matter. Do you have any idea how unbecoming it is for the President and the nation that we can't put a leash on you? You have been throwing our police authorities for a loop. You have made a fool out of them. It is shameful and embarrassing for us, considering how powerful a nation we are and to be seen cowering because of the actions of one man naive enough to think that he can take on the system without any serious ramifications. You are exposing some serious chinks in our once invulnerable armor."

"Ok what are you trying to tell me? That I stop helping people altogether." asked Oliver, his voice laced with burgeoning anger.

"But you are not helping anymore, are you? There is this blanket of trepidation that hangs over Starling. People are afraid of you. You are like a disfigured pariah who operates from within the shadows. They won't hesitate to emasculate you the minute things turn south. In fact, they already have according to recent events unfolding in Starling."

"It doesn't matter what they think of me. What I have started is a lot bigger than me, than any of us. I will always be there as long as people need help." said Oliver, with conviction.

She gave him a sardonic smile, "It's a nice sentiment. You think you are a good samaritan. You think just because you stopped a super powered mercenary from destroying the city, people are gonna accept you. That they are gonna support you, stand by you. One wrong move and they will turn on you like a bunch of hungry hyenas out for blood. People always need a fall guy. A scapegoat. That's what they are good at - shifting the blame. One moment they are by your side serenading your victory, and the next they are running at you with pitch forks ready to disembowel you for your apparent screw up."

"I don't care what people think. I can endure it. Say what you will but people will always need help and I will be their in heartbeat to help help that I provide acutely outweighs the grievances that I may cause."

"Huh…your good outweighs the bad…..Is that what you tell yourself before you go to bed? Is that how you rationalize your actions? You are a vigilante. As much as I respect and admire your altruism, we cannot ignore the obvious. You are an outlaw and the government does not take this matter lightly. You are brazen, brash and loud, and you have caught their attention. You are like a fly being stalked by a spider. You make a racket, zoom around but eventually you are going to be caught in the web and once you are caught,…well the rest is history. There will be serious consequences. A storm is coming your way Oliver."

"You guys haven't been able to catch me till now, what makes you think you can do so now?" countered Oliver.

"Oh please, we haven't even tried and who said anything about capturing? Cops are stupid, bull headed. They come at you head on, in the obvious way. You can see them coming what with all their sirens blaring. You can fight what you see. They are not even in the same playing field as you. If it had been ARGUS, you wouldn't have seen us coming…."

"I have fought ARGUS personnels before. They are no different then the others." stated Oliver trying to rile her up.

She smirked at him mockingly and continued.

"You have been in our radar for a long time Oliver. Our job is to protect and serve. We ascertain threats and eliminate them without questions. We do what we have to do, whatever we have to do, to protect the people. Even if it mean taking you out. You have become a threat. Threat to the people of Starling. So yes, you should be worried. The government has been watching you with a microscope Oliver. If you think you have been given free reign, in spite of all the murders, because you have earned the trust of the people then you are gravely mistaken and wet behind the ears."

"Hey, you do what you have to do, and I will do what I have to do. Just keep me out of the politics. I don't want to get caught up in this bureaucratic bullshit. Keep me off the radar."

"That's the thing Oliver. You are already in the government's radar, right at the centre of it. You made a dramatic entry, you made your presence known with a bang. We have a thick file on you. We track your every move, every action. And you are not alone. We have files on everyone - you, the Flash, that girl in National City and many others."

"That is a serious invasion of privacy. You don't have the right to do that." he cracked at her angrily.

He always knew that the high ranking officials followed his work as the Arrow. He knew that they were always devising ways to tap into his communication systems and get a pin point of his base with the help of satellite imaging. He had been expecting it, and his paranoia had appealed to his better sense to install certain precautions to remain anonymous. But doing the same thing to unsuspecting civilians was outrageous. Barry was a good guy. A bit childish, naive but good. He was a good samaritan with privileges. A hero, who expected nothing in exchange for his help. It really pissed him off that the government had the Flash on their radar.

She scoffed at him," Don't talk to me about rights. Your rights went flying out the window the minute you donned that hood and started killing. You are no better than a terrorist. We treat you with the same level of scorn and contempt as we would a terrorist. You are walking a thin line here Oliver. I must warn you. A terrorist acts outside the law and creates mayhem and believes his actions are right. I can define what you do along the same lines. You act outside the law. You kill people or at least have killed people. You have dropped around a dozen bodies that we know of. That is seriously offensive. And you believe you did that for the greater good, you believe you did the right thing. You have inspired monsters. What you do will lead to anarchy. Total disrespect and shunning of public authority. And you still live in the delusion that you are the kind of justice that Starling City needs. Well…guess what, they deserve better than you and your brand of justice."

"That's really hypocritical of you Amanda, lecturing me about rights and moral ethics when you were born with none. If I remember correctly the orders that you passed in Hong Kong were pretty offensive and ethically violating. Like extorting a certain ARGUS agent to whip me into shape by threatening to kill his family. That was low and underhanded. And what you did to me was unforgivable. I wasn't even a soldier. I was a civilian. You sneaked me out on Lian Yu and into Hong Kong without proper documentation, tortured me and made me torture someone to glean some intel out. Just because you wanted to keep your anonymity in a foreign land, you deputized me to do your dirty work. It was blatantly illegal. You put the responsibility of finding the Alpha-Omega weapon on my shoulders, even though I had no formal training, no idea what I was doing. You used me as a pawn in exchange for a way home, and I was a desperate man. I was ready to do just about anything to get back home. And you used that against me. Your hands are plenty filthy too."

She stopped pacing, and turned to look at him. Her face was impassive. Not even a twitch in her creaseless face could reveal her feelings or emotions. It was impressive how well she had developed this masquerade of hers. Maybe it came with the territory.

"I did what I had to do to protect the people there against a weapon which was potent enough to wipe out the population of the entire nation in their sleep. I also had to take care so as not to arouse the attention of the foreign authorities. It would have gotten dirty and not to mention very complicated and we would have had a serious diplomatic incident at our hands. I did what I had to do to avoid that. And I would do it again in a heart beat. If not you then I would have deputized someone else. I don't have to explain or rationalize my actions to anyone other than the President. I had explicit orders from him and I didn't hear him complain about how they were carried out. I am a government official Oliver. I run ARGUS. Do you have any idea what that job entails? I have to make hard ass decisions everyday. I have to choose…. choose between the lives of a million people to that of one. And I can't do a good job without getting my hands dirty. You stay down on the ground and deal with petty thieves and criminals. For you the world is either black or white. For you the there is a wide gap between right and wrong. It's not so for us. That line is pretty much blurred. For us the world is gray. We work for the greater good even if it means sacrificing our ideals for it. That is something you will never understand."

"Well…then that's where you and I are different. I may be a killer and a vigilante, but for me the line between right and wrong has always been clear. I could never sacrifice one for the other. I have not killed anymore, not since Tommy. Because I believe in my heart that when push comes to shove I will always do the right thing."

"It doesn't matter what you believe in anymore. People have already formed an opinion of you. They think you are a killer. They feel unsafe. If my intel is correct, Captain Lance has already set a Task Force on your ass. It's only a matter of time-"

"I know that Amanda, you don't have to tell me that." interjected Oliver. "And I don't want to get into a diatribe with you, but we have been talking about all the problems the government is facing because of me, and I get that. I really do. But there is one thing that I do not get."

"What's that?" questioned Amanda.

"Why now?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why now? I mean, I have been doing this for the last three years and not once have you even broached this subject before. You and I have crossed paths last year but you never mentioned anything before. And all of a sudden you orchestrated a kidnapping to draw me out just to deliver a lecture. What's changed?" asked Oliver. This had been bugging him for a long time now.

She considered his question for a few seconds with a solemn face. Maybe trying to determine the best possible way to answer him. She folded her arms and answered.

"Yes, I was wondering when you would ask me that. You want to know what's changed? I will tell you what's changed. The League of are in some sort of consort with them-"

"I am not in any kind of association with them. I would never. They have threatened my city." shot Oliver.

She smiled and Oliver's ire shot north.

"Perhaps….but what about your lover Sara Lance. She was a high ranking member of the league. And yes, I am aware that she is dead. Last year you welcomed her back and hoards of assassin followed her to take her back. It caused lots of problem for us. They are terrorists and shouldn't be allowed entry into our soil."

He wasn't surprised that she knew about Sara's death.

"Sara wasn't a terrorist. She was never a willing member of the League. She never had a choice and was an outsider. Ra's never accepted her. And she left the league and came home to be with her family. I am telling you she wasn't hostile."

"Nonetheless, she was one of them. And what about Ra's Al Ghul's daughter Nyssa and that fugitive Malcolm Merlyn? I believe if my intel is correct he is currently holed up in your sister's apartment. Do you know that he is wanted by the police for his various crimes? He is a pathological psychopath and a mass murderer. He killed his son, your friend. And you are in cahoot with the both of them."

"The matter with Malcolm is complicated. He doesn't mean any harm, at least not anymore. And he is wanted by the league for betraying them. Ra's has sanctioned a hit on him. He is under my protection."

Her eyebrows shot up towards her hairline upon hearing this. It must have clearly appalled her.

"I am sorry but did I hear you correctly? You are protecting a criminal and a mass murderer from justice. Oliver what is wrong with you? Don't you see what a spineless bastard he is. He destroyed half of Starling City and not to mention sabotaged that ship you were on. And not only that, he betrayed the League of Assassins. Such a despicable and third rate man he is. No honor. Yet you protect him from the league while your city suffers from their onslaught."

"Back off from this topic Amanda. This is personal. I don't want you to poke your nose into it. I have gone to great lengths to ensure his safety. I don't want it to come undone." warned Oliver.

"Like taking a sword through your gut." countered Amanda.

His head snapped up to look at her.

"You know about that?"

"Of course I know about that. I am the executive director of ARGUS. We have eyes and ears everywhere. Literally."

He sighed. There must be nothing in this world that she didn't know about.

"Well yes. But I finally got Ra's off Malcolm's back. I don't want that to change."

"And yes, while we're on the subject, we also have to talk about him." said Amanda.

"Who? Ra's?"

"Yes, Ras Al Ghul. The head of the criminal organization - League of Assassins."

"Well what about him?" asked Oliver.

"In view of recent events coming to light, I believe Ra's has offered you a spot at the very top of the league. I mean replacing him."

"Yes, he offered me his spot." nodded Oliver. "Not exactly a dream job. Don't worry I rejected the offer. I am not going to go and run a shadowy organization."

"That's where the problem lies Oliver." said Amanda calmly.

Oliver frowned, not that she could see it. "Problem? What kind of problem? And problem with what exactly? That he offered me a spot or that I didn't take it?"

"Not exactly a problem per se. Just difference in opinions. And I don't see him offering you a spot as a problem. That was just his ploy to test the water and see if he could trust you."

"Then what's the problem?" inquired Oliver.

"Ra's Al Ghul is a dangerous man. He is ruthless, smart, shrewd and always gets what he wants. And I also forgot to mention a pathological psychopath. He believes he is God's gift to us. He has this demented idea that he is here to cleanse and purge humanity. I have had my run ins with him. He is in FBI's top ten most wanted list and has been there for as long as four decades now. No one dared touch him. Because no one could figure out the location of his base. He is ghost. Occasionally he would pop up here and there, like once in Italy, Syria, Africa, Afghanistan; but once we would swoop down and move in to capture him, he would vanish like smoke. It's like he gets off by watching us work our ass off to catch him. And another thing consistent with him is that all the time he popped up in our radar, it was always preceding a horrific global disaster. He is a bad omen for us, he is the lull before the storm. It's like every time he surfaces, he warns us of some impending doom. He was sighted in Tajikistan just before 9/11. After the incident we thought it was him. We even investigated the possibility of his involvement but then Al-Qaeda claimed responsibility."

She paused to take a breathe and continued.

"And now after nearly a decade, he has resurfaced and taken an avid interest in you. So you can understand our skepticism. He is planing something. Something huge and you are at the centre of it. We are investigating ever angle here, taking every kind of precaution to avoid another incident of the scale of 9/11."

"I knew all that. I pretty much deduced all that when he impaled me with a sword. Well not all the details but I went through the cliff notes. And again… how am I at the centre of it?"

"Not only are you at the centre but are partially to blame for it."

"What? Have you gone crazy? You are going to pin this on me. How am I to blame for this? Prey, do tell." challenged Oliver, stepping towards her.

"You should have never engaged him. That was your mistake. He never shows himself and if he revealed himself and his outpost to you it must mean that he has some kind of agenda, an ulterior motive. That duel was some kind of test, to test if you were worthy; and you handed yourself over to him without hesitation. That was a dick move. Now he has found the perfect weapon in you; even offered you his spot. That should tell you something. He has something big planned and you are at the centre of it."

"Then what would you have me do? Run away like a coward. It was either me or my sister. I did what I had to do to protect my family."

"It was a gallant effort but nonetheless….it was a thick headed move. You should have come to me. We would have sent the bulk of ARGUS to arrest him. We would have swooped down from the sky and he would have been in our custody by the time he knew what hit him."

She was right, Oliver realized. Now it sounded like a good plan. Why didn't he think of it earlier? He could have saved himself so much trouble.

"I admit it was not one of my finest moments. I didn't have much time to come up with some sort of plan. I went in blind and head first. It was stupid." agreed Oliver.

"Thought so…and now that you have rejected his offer, just like a spoiled and petulant child he is doing everything he can to get what he wants, and by any means necessary. His goons are out killing people indiscriminately while impersonating the Arrow. He is hanging you out to dry. The Arrow takes the fall for all the crimes, thus turning the City against him. It is a clever ruse to get you to see how capricious people really are. They turn their allegiance the moment you screw up. And you go running back to the league the moment the pressure gets unbearable for you. If you choose to endure it…well then more bodies drop and there is no saying that he won't come for your sister." said Amanda.

"Yeah…I am aware of all that. What do you think I have been doing for the past couple of weeks? I have been trying to track the killers down but Captain Lance and his Task Force always keep cutting me off. It's getting very frustrating."

"Well you can't blame them. They believe what they see. Ra's Al Ghul sure provides an air tight case. No arguing with that. You are screwed."

"No shit!" spat Oliver. "So all this heart to heart we are having…Does that mean you are going to help me stop Ra's so that we can put an end to this pointless killing spree he is on?"

Amanda looked at him for a second and chuckled, the sound of her laugh bouncing of the walls.

"Oliver…stopping Ra's is an almost impossible task. He is on foreign soil. It's gonna take months or probably years to get all the paperworks in order to plan an operation as big as this on foreign soil. It's not practical. We have to approach this in a more pragmatic way. We have to cut off our redundancies." explained Amanda.

"What does that mean? Ok we can't up and go to a foreign soil and arrest him. All these diplomatic crap…. God I hate all them. The bad guy always finds a loophole in them and they become untouchable… So…I presume you have a plan to stop the killings."

"Oh! I have a plan all right. But it won't be to your liking."

"Right now I don't care what kind of plan it is as long as it stops all the killing. It's was all set in motion because of me. My conscience can only take so much."

"It isn't a long term plan. It won't help us arrest him but it will certainly get him off our backs. Momentarily. It will throw him off balance. But since he has a something big planed, our plan won't stop him permanently. He will strike again after regrouping but then we will be ready."

"So what's the plan?" asked Oliver, getting impatient.

She didn't speak at once but moved a few steps towards him. The yellow light from the bulb brightened her face, chasing away all the shadows cast over it. Her eyes darkened and her lips tightened into a thin line. She fixed him with a dead look which evoked in him an ominous feeling.

"Oliver…..the plan is to kill you." said Amanda, in a single dead monotone. No quiver or flutter evident in her voice. No doubt or second thoughts about her plan. Just a single flat delivery of words, as if this plan of hers was the most obvious step to success.

And she looked confident and resolute about it's success.

An unearthly stillness spread across the hall. The words were out in the open now. A naked truth, potent enough to cause anyone else to buckle under it. When someone mutters these very words, it gives them a complete power over you, at least psychologically if not physically. It shatters you.

But it was not so for Oliver, He, being a seasoned warrior, had been at the receiving end of these words quite a few time now and it didn't faze him much anymore. He had learnt to take it in stride.

So he took a slow and deep breathe, and remained silent. Partially because he didn't know how to respond to something like that.

Amanda continued to stare at him with that same intense look. As if she was trying to bore into his skull to determine what was on his mind.

But she came up empty.

"Ra's Al Ghul has been using you as his weapon. He is attacking your city under your guise. It won't be long before Starling is laid waste in rubbles. You haven't been able to do anything much about it. Only taking the heat for it. So we came up with a contingency plan to save Starling and stop all the killings. We cripple his plan by taking away his weapon - you. We kill you and stage it like you died saving a kidnapped girl. It gets turned into a breaking news. I can even picture the head lines… _Arrow dies a hero while rescuing Mayor's daughter.._ Public deems you a hero. You die a martyr. Starling mourns your death. Ra's looses his pawn. No more Arrow, no more hiding behind curtains and killing innocents."

Oliver snarled inwardly at the plan. It was a good plan, he had to give her that. But there were certain loopholes. For example, his death wasn't going to cripple Ra's Al Ghul or the league in any way. It was only going to piss him off. And once the Arrow was out of the picture, Ra's would come in with his full force and attack Malcolm and Thea first; and then he would obliterate his city just out of spite.

No…on second thought this was a very bad plan. It was going to bring hell raining down upon them.

"It's a very bad plan. A disaster. You are stirring shit up. It's gonna blow up in your face." said Oliver, calmly.

"How so…prey, do tell?"

"I am the only one keeping him at bay. He is doing all this for me. It's a show he is putting on to show me the error of my ways. He wants me to embrace the Arrow and let go of Oliver Queen. He is calling me out. As long as I am here, he isn't gonna try anything. You take me out, he is gonna get pissed. Maybe it will cripple him enough to slow him. Maybe it will be a kink in his plans. But this is Ra's Al Ghul we are talking about. This plan of yours isn't going to deter him in any way. It's only gonna be a minor setback for him, considering the vast army and resources he has at his disposal. He's only gonna come back stronger and then once he unleashes his force, it's gonna get nasty. Believe me when I say this, but you need me to stop him. I can reach him in a way you can't."

She slowly unfolded her arms and clasped them in front of her. And her pacing began again. Maybe it was to unsettle him.

"Maybe so….maybe you are the only one capable of getting close enough to him. Maybe you are the only one now who can cripple his organization, but now we don't have time to sit back and hatch a big, elaborate plan to take him down. People are being murdered everyday for God sakes…..and it is being staged like it is your doing. People are feeling unsafe. They are afraid to walk out at night. They put double locks on their doors and triple check their windows. So….you can see why we are doing this. There is mass rallying going on outside the White House, gunning for your arrest. Vigilantism isn't and won't ever be tolerated. The line between a vigilante and a criminal is thin. Our own people think our system is incompetent. We haven't been able to apprehend a vigilante, who has been running amok outside the jurisdictions of the law. It's unbecoming. People don't need that. America doesn't need that. The President is worried about the next elections. Worried he won't be reelected."

Oliver sighed. There she was blabbering on and on about the political bullshit, something he couldn't care less about. This decision was all based on blind panic. No logic, no real insight into the matter. Just pure and utter panic. And when the shit hit the fan, lots of people were going to get killed in the stampede.

"I am an American citizen beneath the mask. You can't just kill me and shove the matter under the carpet. There is no official order for an assassination. You can't go behind the President's back and play your little games."

"Who said anything about going behind the President's back? I have explicit and express order from him to take you out by any means necessary." she pulled out a piece of neatly folded paper from the left pocket of her suit and held it in between her forefinger and thumb, and dangled it in front of him. "It couldn't get messy and be linked back to the government. And naturally he came to us because we are good at this clandestine operations."

This piece of information unsettled Oliver. It was one thing to hate the government. Everybody hated the government. It wasn't exactly something news. But to have the government hate you back, and with such overwhelming vengeance was something else. His own country was out to kill him. The place where he was born, where he learnt to walk, the place which he called home. All those night he was out in the rain and tumultuous thunder, prowling the city with the sole purpose of making his home a better place seemed pointless now. If this was how his country was gonna repay him - with a spot in the cemetery, then it would have been better if he had just snuffed out on the island. All those pain and suffering he went through just seemed so tiny and insignificant now.

It was staggering. But somehow his mind and body accepted it. And somewhere in the back of his mind he felt the creature, the dark rage which he had suppressed and shackled for so long, rear it's head slowly…ready to take control….ready to survive through whatever this was again and make the people responsible for it pay, and pay in blood.

But now wasn't the time to loose control, not yet at least. He reigned in the darkness, barely able to control his anger.

"Why the need to kill me though? The President wants publicity right? He wants people to know that he was the one who took the right action at the right time. So why kill me? Why not arrest me and unmask me? The press would go nuts. And the President can slobber all over his seat at the White House for the next two decades." asked Oliver.

She gaped incredulously at him as though his his question made no sense. Or as though he didn't know what he was talking about.

"We can't have that. Arresting and unmasking you will have the worst possible repercussion on us. It will have a negative impact on America's image. People can't know. The world can't know that the man under the hood is Oliver Queen. They think they do, but inside a small part of them doesn't wanna know. People already have an opinion of the Arrow. Your identity is shrouded in mystery. For them you are a larger than life criminal. Something supernatural. They don't want to bring their mind to imagine that the man under the hood is an actual human being. Someone who is on the same level as them. It will shatter their trust on people and the government. And incidentally, your company was under weapons contract with the military. Queen Industry was deeply affiliated with the government. It will be shameful for us if it were to leak that the man who has a leather fetish, puts arrows into people and is basically dubbed a criminal, was associated with our government. Other countries will presume that we have no control on our people. No authority. We will look weak, like an old man with rickety knees on the verge of death."

"We aren't fascists… Amanda. America is a democratic country. The government is elected by the people and they work for the people. They don't go around hatching schemes to murder their own. You are inching towards a totalitarian regime here."

"You are right, they don't. We value American lives. But you are not our own anymore, Oliver. The moment you stopped playing by the rules, the moment you started reaching outside the jurisdiction of the law…you became a terrorist. And we do not adopt a forgiving attitude towards terrorists. We handle them with extreme prejudice. We're aren't fascists. They didn't have rules or laws. We are a democracy….we play by the rules"

"So what now? You are gonna call in your ARGUS cavalry here now and play a game of cat and mouse with me. Try and put me down. Or order a firing squad on me. How many men will you send for me? Ten, fifteen, twenty. Because let me tell you I am seriously pissed right now and you do not want me angry. No matter how many you send, I am gonna make sure each and every one of them end up in a hospital bed. I am done playing nice…..done trying to contain the monster in me. You don't wanna cross me. Bring it on Amanda….Bring. It. On….." warned Oliver.

He was seething with unbridled rage and his hands were shaking. It had reached to the brim. Barely controlled. And he was sure he would loose control. He could feel his inner beast claw ferociously at it's shell, aching so very badly to come out and lay the land to waste. It was so very primal. The urge. No. The need. To kill. The pleasure which he derived from it was so gratifying.

But it was bad. Very, very bad. He hadn't felt this way since the island. The island had brought out the best and the worst in him. The best was out for everyone to see. The best was the outer shell which hid the worst from the world. And it was the amalgamation of both the good and the bad that made him who he was. It was by the force of both that he could do what he did every night.

But this was different. The savagery beast which for so long would only stir in it's sleep, was now fully roused. Unfettered. It's appetite was whetted. And there was nothing it would't do to survive.

Amanda looked at him with an upraised eyebrow. And then her eyes narrowed. He could make out the fire in her eyes. The decision had been made. No argument. No turning back.

"And you don't wanna cross me either. Because when you cross me, you cross the American government. Which you have already so astutely done. The decision has been made. You are here to face your punishment. Call it karma or bad luck. But you are not walking out of here alive. That much I am sure of."

"And one more thing Oliver….there isn't any cavalry coming. What I have in mind for you is more dangerous and a lot more conspicuous. It's a team of special people and they are very effective. In fact when I went to them with this proposal they were more then happy to comply. I mean they have a serious grudge against you. There is no way you can make it out of here in one piece."

"What team?" asked Oliver incredulously.

Instead of answering him, she slipped her hand into the right pocket of her suit, and pulled out a phone. Her thumb flicked and danced across the screen for a couple of second and then she put the phone to her ear and whispered into the receiver, " Operation Broken Arrow is a go."

She might have whispered it, but he heard it distinctly. As clear as day. As loud as a gunshot on a hot summer afternoon.

" What's Operation Broken Arrow?" asked Oliver.

She smiled menacingly, "Apparently..…your endgame."

Oliver growled. This was getting old really fast. She was unwilling to share any kind of information. She was keeping him in the dark. He had to be careful.

Amanda just stood there stoically with her arms crossed. Her lips were pursed into a thin line. If he was not mistaken he could see a tinge of worry ensnare her usually phlegmatic demeanor. But then in an instant it vanished and was replaced by a wall again. It happened so fast that it made him doubt if the wariness he saw in her eyes was a farce.

He was about to ask her what the matter with her was; when he heard it. A sharp _twang._ The sound wasn't as loud as a gunshot nor was it low. It was just right for his almost superhuman ears to perceive. It came from somewhere high up behind him. He didn't have to turn around and check what it was. He already knew that.

Over the years, he had learnt to distinguish different objects by the sound they made. It was different for all. The nuances of sound was very effective and had helped him perceive danger even when he couldn't see it. He had learnt to rely on all his sense to be better prepared for all kinds of danger. And it had served him well. Just like now.

He didn't have to look back to surmise what was happening. His mind was already in overdrive. Flooring the accelerator. The pistons in his mind were oscillating vigorously, as it came up with the danger that was threatening him and a viable solution to eradicate it. Hearing that sharp twang and the soft whiz of air behind him, he knew what was coming towards him. He could feel the subtle ripples in the air as it cut through it, towards him. And somehow, instinctively or subconsciously, he knew that it was aimed for his heart.

His calve muscles coiled like a spring, as he bend slightly at the hip and then dived hard to his right. He hung in midair for a couple of seconds. And since nothing hit him on his way, he reckoned it had missed him. He arched downwards, hit the ground and rolled once; and in one swift motion stood up straight, pulled out an arrow from his quiver, nocked it and pointed it up behind him, in the direction of the attack.

But he couldn't see anyone up there. It was too dark.

He turned his head to the right, to where he was standing four seconds ago, and saw an arrow lying five meters from the spot.

Someone had shot an arrow at him. And his honed senses had come to his rescue.

Looking at Amanda and pointing towards the arrow he asked, "One of yours?"

"You will find out soon enough." she said with a mirthless smile.

He ignored her and warily moved towards the arrow and picked it up to inspect it. It wasn't one of his, obviously. He flipped it over in his hand to find any kind of incriminating evidence. It was the same length as his though but was heavier. The only other archer he knew was Malcolm Merlyn and he used black arrows. But this one wasn't black. It was bright pink, but under the dull, yellow light it looked a warm shade of burgundy. And another peculiar thing which stood out, was that instead of a triangular arrow head it had an heart shaped one.

It clicked instantly in his mind, like a puzzle piece falling into place. He had crossed path with the person who used this kind of arrows. And that experience had not been pleasant.

"Carrie" he whispered and started looking around trying to find the person in question.

"Hey…. lover!" came a crackling voice from somewhere behind him.

He whirled around on spot to look at the source.

And there she was, behind him, barely visible in the shadows.

Carrie Cutter aka Cupid.

A deranged, psychopathic, maniacal killer whose obsession with the Arrow led to her wreaking havoc across Starling City. She believed herself to be his true love; and when he rejected her, she went on a killing spree. The last time they crossed path, she had caused him quite a headache. She had tried killing both of them by letting a train run them over; but at the last second he had saved them both by the skin of his teeth. And then he had handed her over to ARGUS.

Now it looked like they were using her to meet their interests.

"Carrie….what are you doing here?" asked Oliver. She was the second person he had not expected to see here.

She sauntered towards him. Her face slowly materialized under the light. Her long flame red hair cascaded down her neck and past her shoulder. A few strands licked her face as a wide maniacal smile almost split it in half. He could see the craziness in her beady eyes. And now under this dull light, she looked every bit the deranged manic she was. She was dressed in the exact clothes he had seen her before. A long over coat with a tank top underneath, and leather pants. A quiver hung from her shoulder, and she had a bow on her right hand.

"Darling…I came to see you. I missed you….my love. You never came to see me in prison. I got so lonely. And then She said I cold come see you…so I came…for you. We can be together now…" her soft tenor reverberated across the walls towards him, and her eyes pulsating with a sizzling vigor.

Yeah, right. In your dreams, thought Oliver.

He turned towards Amanda.

"You let her go…Are you crazy? You know how many people she has killed. She needs help." spat Oliver.

"Hey…I am right here you know." countered Carrie.

Oliver ignored her and fixed his glare at Amanda, waiting for a reply.

"She isn't the only one." replied Amanda, simply

Then suddenly he saw a slight shuffling in the darkness from the corner of his eye.

Two burly figures briskly walked and stepped in from the shadow under the light.

"Well…well, if it isn't the Emerald Archer." said one of them with a drawling voice.

His neck snapped to the right.

He knew the voice.

Floyd Lawton aka Deadshot.

And he wasn't alone.

Trudging lightly behind him was another criminal with whom Oliver had had the misfortune of crossing path.

Digger Harkness aka Captain Boomerang, another psychopath who has an unhealthy obsession with boomerangs.

He took a step back, not shaken but slightly deterred. He wasn't expecting this. Amanda had gone all out to take him down. She wasn't holding anything back. She had gone and made deals with a contract killer, a maniac who played around with boomerang and a deranged, stalker, psychopath to take him out. This showed how desperate she was. She was ready to stoop as low as necessary to get the job done.

There were three of them against him. It would get a bit hairy but eventually he would pull through. That much he was confident in. What he wasn't sure of was that, once he was through with her team, what she had planned on after. What was her final play? Because knowing Amanda, she always had something up her sleeve. She always liked to hold all the aces in any situation. And she knew that these three wouldn't be enough against him.

So he turned towards her, seeking an explanation. She had been mute for a long time now. He had to gauge some kind of reaction from her.

"So…that's it, Amanda? These three against me? You know they can't kill me. Yes, I'll admit it will be tough but I can fight them off. But don't expect me to play nice. Because if you would have been in my place you wouldn't have. Expect broken bones and fractured skull."

"Don't get cocky mate. Last time you bested us one on one. Now it's us against you. We are a team and are gonna kick your arse to kingdom come." warned Harkness, with his scratchy British accent. And it was almost incomprehensible.

A snarl sprung on his stubbled, rugged face. There were shadows under his eyes. He was thinner than the last time. Not totally bony but somewhere in between. But all the same made of taut muscles and sinew. It seems prison had taken it's toll on him. A large, shabby, beige coat hung from his shoulders. It made him look bulky and large, but if one were to inspect his scrawny neck, and the web of veins on it which snaked down inside, they would be able to guess his actual structure. His hands were twiddling with the lapels of his coat. They were most probably itching to reach inside, pull out one of his boomerangs and fling it in his direction. But he didn't.

"I am not getting cocky. You are, if you think you have a chance of beating me. If you know what's good for you, you will turn around and haul your sorry little ass back to whence you came from….Three against one…my ass. I have done this before. Trust me, it's gonna be like one and half against one." countered Oliver.

"But…it's not exactly three against one now is it?" shot Lawton, taking a small step forward. His southern accent slightly showing no matter how much he tried to mask it.

His face was hard and pale, like a ghost. It was weathered and beaten with experience and exposure. His cold, empty eye was narrowed in indignation. A prosthetic eye occupied the place where his other eye was supposed to be. Again, Oliver was responsible for this condition of his. His prosthetic eye glowed red, like the end of a burning cigarette. He was in his combat clothes, all padded up. With a heavy boot which made the sound of horse's hooves when he walked. His hands were gloved and miniature machine guns straddled both his wrists. Two guns were holstered on both his hips, and a assault rifle slung from his shoulder. Peaking out from underneath the jacket and running along his neck, Oliver could make out the tattoos. The tattoos, which were his souvenirs from his victims. He was psychopathic that way. He tattooed the names of his victims. And there were lots of them.

Oliver didn't cower, but took a step towards him, "What do you mean by that?"

Lawton chuckled, as his thin lips split to reveal his teeth.

"Oh…actually we have four members in our team. This other guy…ooh….he is a piece of work. And let me tell you, he has a major beef with you. And he is kinda scary. Believe me this coming from me that's saying something. Said there was a whole lot of shit in your history. Wouldn't stop ranting about the different ways he was going to kill you. About how you destroyed his life. He was vague though. Said something about you killing his girl and him keeping his promise."

Before Oliver could respond to that, he heard a soft, but distinctive thumping. His head quirked towards the sound, trying to determine it's source. It stopped for a moment. Then it started again. Soft and distinctive. Like a staccato of footsteps. Thump….thump….thump. It was coming towards them and was getting louder.

"Oh…Mate, he is here. You are in for a ride." taunted Harkness, his teeth gleaming in the darkness.

Oliver gritted his teeth in anger and looked towards the incoming footsteps. The thumping were getting louder but slower now. He could make out the silhouette in the darkness. He tightened his grip on his bow, his right hand ready to plunge into his quiver at any sign of danger.

But before any coherent thought could blossom in his mind, he heard it. A whisper, like a caress; but it had the proportion of a kick to the groin or a knife slipped between the bones.

"Hello Kid….. Miss me?"

It was indeed a whisper. From within the darkness. It was the devil from his past. Here to collect his soul.

His voice was the same. Low pitch, husky and full of malice. Like a rumbling thunder, or the throaty growl of a lion.

No…no,no,no,no. Amanda wouldn't do that, would she? Was she that desperate? Did she really release this psychopath to kill him?

And it made Oliver's blood run cold. A chill ran down his spine. Suddenly the temperature in the room dropped drastically. He shivered. There was no way he could ever forget that voice. It brought back lots of memories, lots of pain, overwhelming him.. He staggered back. His mind was rattled. He couldn't form any kind of coherent thoughts. He was stumped. He felt like he was stuck in a limbo. Time slowed down.

It couldn't be, he thought. This wasn't happening.

And then from the shadows, into the light, Slade Wilson's timeless face materialized.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author's Note: I would, as usual, like to begin by thanking everyone for all the favorites, follows and reviews. They are really helpful.

Regarding this chapter, I tried to ground the concept of a superhero or a vigilante in our real world. I mean, if there was someone out there, someone like the Arrow in our real world, then what kind of ramifications it would entail? The government isn't just gonna sit and entertain it. They are gonna try and stop it. This is a concept which is never dealt with in any superhero movie, or book etc. Because now a days no one can hide from the government. Everything is out in the open. No secrets, no lies. So it would be really hard to do what Oliver does. So in this chapter the government comes knocking. I did this government conspiracy thing.

I tried to make it as realistic and as interesting as possible. It was really tough writing it. It took me three weeks to write 9000 words. Yup…I am pretty slow.

So last but not the least, I implore you to review, follow and favorite it. I need to keep the fire burning. And also I would like for you to tell me if there is any discernible improvements in these later chapters compared to the earlier one's. I need you to be bluntly honest with me.

Again, I would like to thank everyone for reading my story. Until next time (in 3 weeks again, most probably.)


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER - 7

Felicity was worried.

No.

She was delirious with worry. It was making her come unhinged. In fact, it was making her sick. She could feel her lunch churning in her stomach. Stress and anxiety did lead to indigestion. And there was also the throbbing headache which was banging away at her head, numbing away everything thing else. And it didn't help that she didn't get any sleep last night due to the kidnapping case. And now her eyelids were leaden with overdue sleep. She could feel the sluggishness blanket her body.

After Oliver left for Central City last night, she had stayed up in the cave all night long; and dug and scoured all the databases over the internet for Adam Stone. She had dozed off a couple of times, but had not given up. One of the thing about working as the tech consultant to a vigilante was shouldering part of the responsibility and accountability. A hero was only as good as the support he got. So she could not bail on him and slack on the job, even though her tired and sluggish body said otherwise. But she had pulled through at last. She unravelled every bit of information she could find and had relayed it to Oliver.

But that wasn't why she was worried. She had always been a worry wort for as long as she could remember. The day before high school, the day before college, the day before her first job et cetera, et cetera. She remembered it all. The day before her first day at high school, she was so nervous, anxious and worried that she had gotten sick and puked, which had resulted in her missing her first day. Her mom had had to take the day off to take care of her. Those were few of the troubles and trivial matters which had vexed her back in the day. At an existential level, those were the kind of problems which knotted everyone up. Every normal person who went through the motions had to and will face these kinds of problems and dilemmas.

But Felicity wasn't normal. At least not by a long shot. When it came to her, there was more than meets the eye. She worked at Palmer Tech and her position there was huge, which entailed a lot of responsibility and commitment. In addition to that she was the tech. consultant to the local vigilante; something which she couldn't put up in her resume. Back when she was in MIT, all she had to worry about was submitting assignments on time and maintaining a perfect GPA. Back then she had always pictured her dream job to be in a multinational corporation, much like the one she worked in now. She never had lofty dreams about herself. She always wanted a nine to five job. Nothing more nothing less. She wanted to sit in front of a computer and tap away to her hearts content. She always wanted to do what she loved. That is how she would prosper. Then her only worry would have been to work hard, please her bosses and climb up the corporate rung.

But life had a sick sense of humor. It poured cold water over her dreams. Her life took an unexpected turn, when she agreed to enter a dark, seedy tunnel with a vigilante and she couldn't see the light at the end. Her life had been turned upside down. It swerved right out of the road and barreled hard and wide into the barrier and plummeted into a pitch black chasm. Now her worries had escalated to a level which she had neither anticipated nor expected. Now her worries were not about completing projects and vying for those coveted promotions. Now she had to worry about others. She had to watch over a city. Just like a mother dots over her wayward child. The people of Starling were under her care. She was their guardian. She had to look out for them, cater to their needs. Keep the city free from crime. It wasn't exactly the kind of job she had envisioned herself doing back then. And she had been rattled at first when she was first brought into it. The pressure, the responsibility, the blood and the gore. Having to look at the world through the dirt and the grime was enough to unnerve anyone.

During her three years working as the Arrow's confidante, she had come across various dangerous and disturbing situations. In the beginning she had trouble coming to terms with what Oliver did. She had lost countless number of nights contemplating how someone could continue to do what he did. How could he take lives of so many people, no matter how evil they were? He was like a gardener, who sullied his hands by uprooting the scum from the society like weeds. She had to live through it and watch him butcher those criminals day after day. He would come back everyday nursing various cuts and bruises. Some days it would be few nicks and bruises and other days it would be something life threatening like a bullet wound or a broken appendage. Diggle would then hook him up to his own blood supply and sew up the wound, or plaster up his broken arm or leg.

Diggle had been a rock for all these years. Always calm, considerate and precocious. Looking out for everyone, especially her. Seeing as he was in the army and dealt with situations much worse than this, he knew what to expect, when to push and when to hold back. He was like a big brother she never had. He helped her through the tough transition. She had never been exposed to the darker side of life before and to make the experience from overwhelming her sanity, Diggle had taken it upon himself to refrain her from certain parts of the job which she would not have been able to stomach. She was thankful for that. There were days when she had come close to quitting and returning back to her old, insignificant life. It wasn't a question of her competence. It was a question of her sanity. Whether or not she would retain it after she came out of this dark tunnel.

Looking at Oliver, she could make out that he had lost part of his sanity back on the island. The island had chewed up Oliver Queen from one end and spit out the Arrow from the other. Because in a place as hostile and dreadful as the island, Oliver Queen wasn't enough. To persist and survive he had to evolve. Evolve into something greater. He had been molded and forged into a tool. A weapon. That was how the Arrow was born.

But that didn't mean that he wasn't afraid or apprehensive. Sometimes his eyes screamed it out clearly. Sometimes when he would return after his nightly prowls, she would peer into the endless depth of his emerald green eyes and see it quivering with fear and uncertainty. Like there was a small child trapped inside this body, this weapon. The child which was long lost at sea and never found his way back home. The child clawed and gnawed at the outer husk, which was born on the island, for release from this gruesome and grotesque lifestyle. But spending all those time with him, she could see that he had a good heart. A heart which belonged to that child who was lost at sea. She had peeked into his heart. It was pure and radiant with hope and wonder. He wanted to help. Make his home a better place to live in.

But Starling City wasn't exactly a fairy land to live in. It was run by mobsters and an elite groups of criminals who didn't care about who they trampled on, as long as they got what they wanted. The police were helpless as they didn't have any kind of concrete evidence to start an investigation, because these criminals were pretty good at cleaning after themselves. Justice by law wasn't enough anymore. Starling needed a new and special brand of justice. And change was beckoning.

But Oliver Queen with his kind and altruistic heart wouldn't be enough to bring about that change. After all, he was only human. Starling City needed someone who was willing to bend the law. Not for his own gratification but to purge the city off the cancer which had infested it. Starling city needed intimidation and a bit of theatrics to be shaken out of their apathy. Oliver Queen brought about the change, but it was the Arrow who with his moral ambiguity, plunged his hands into the dirt and grime and yanked out the manifesting evil by it's roots. Starling needed both. Oliver Queen and the Arrow. One needed the other to function properly. Like two sides of the coin.

And that also didn't mean he was infallible. Considering what he did and how much of his soul he had to sacrifice very night, it was inevitable that he would be inclined to make mistakes or make a few bad calls. He pushed himself harder than anyone without any regards to his well being. She could never comprehend the force behind that drive. The force behind the fire which blazed in his eyes. Which never extinguished. No matter how many times he fell, he would always pick himself up and plow through. The fire in his eyes was eternal and timeless. But his body was transient, ephemeral. The fire would persist long after the strength in his limbs had faded away. The world owed him awe. He brought forth the latent hopes and dreams of the good people of Starling. Like Atlas he carried the weight of this imperfect and flawed world on his shoulders and all the while trying incessantly to beat and pummel it into perfection.

Back in the day, she had asked him once, just out of curiosity. "Why do you do it? Why do you put yourself out there, every night of everyday?"

And in return he had replied in a few but idiomatic words - "Because I can."

It was simple really and yet loaded with meaning. Back then she couldn't understand what he meant by it. But now after spending all those years getting to know him she could at least understood the monologue of what he said. When he said he did it because he could, it didn't mean that he had acquired a certain skill set which afforded him the necessary tools to do it. It was never a matter of how competent he was. It was always his willingness to act. Competence was never enough if it was not coupled with will and determination. The Arrow would not have been able to able to pull Starling out of the clutches of this feasting evil. It was Oliver Queen's will and determination paired with the Arrow's competence which made him who he was. It transcended him to a superhero. Something that Starling sorely needed.

Nonetheless, it was too much burden for any one person to shoulder, according to her. But he did it anyway. And he did it to the fullest of his capabilities. For which she admired and respected him. He had dedicated his youth, life and soul to the people of Starling. He may have been dubbed a vigilante, but he had successfully invoked in people this fleeting but indomitable sense of hope and fearlessness. People were no longer afraid to peek out their windows or step out at night. Just like he stood up and fought for the betterment of his home, people everywhere took a page out of his book and looked out for one another and their community. When your home was in shambles, the fear floundering in your heart had to be squeezed out. It had to be quenched out by the willingness to fight back. Push back and fight for your birthright, he had said. The Arrow believed in it. Oliver Queen believed in it. And they both exercised it.

But doing what he did, day in day out, he was the one who was the most vulnerable, to pain, suffering and loneliness. He believed he could get over them. Shove them under the rug. Keep it suppressed. But sometimes she could see those vivid emotion swirling in those eyes, like dried, brittle leaves being eddied up by the wind during autumn. It didn't happen often. But when it did it's glare was blinding. And just like a window shutter being pulled down, which abruptly cuts off the light; he would erect a wall which would cut off all his emotions. He would return back to being the fearless, soulless killer that he claimed to be.

During this grueling endeavor of his, he was the one who had lost the most. Both his parents, his best friend, his lover and a lot more. He never showed it, but it had affected him a lot. It had crippled him little by little. It suffocated him, strangled him, leaving him breathless. And that's why she worried about him the most. That's why he should always be surrounding by his friends. Friends who will kick him back on track, if he were ever to swerve from it. But foremost of all what he needed was moral support. In between the salvos of rigorous activities, he would sometimes loose his way. It was inevitable. It happened to everyone, even to the best of them. So he needed his friends or those he held closest to his heart, to shake him out of those self - pitying, self - deprecating stupor of his. And to show him that what he did was a lot greater and grander than all of them. What they did was about exhaling the universal feeling of hope and aspiration on everyone. It was about transcendence. Transcending the people of Starling to believe in themselves and take control of their own future.

And to give them that power, he toiled hard. He put himself in incomprehensible situations and emerged victorious. He had returned Starling to it's former glory, while bathed in the shadows. Protecting it diligently with his fervor. But the most selfless act of his which she was privy to was challenging Ra's Al Ghul to a duel, in order to protect his sister and a mass murderer. He had sprinted into the dark, stormy night wrestling with all his might against the black, raging sea and the strong, howling wind, struggling to keep the ship afloat, as his muscles burned with pain and numbness. He had offered up his life selflessly to the sea and the storm, in exchange for the lives of others on the ship.

He took the brunt of the attack which was meant for his sister. A sword through the gut and went missing for two weeks. Those two weeks had been hell for everyone on the team. Especially her, considering how close she had gotten to him over the years. Everyone had given up hope, preparing themselves for the worst possibility, that being his death. But she had held on. She held on to that sliver of hope, like an infant did his mother. However flimsy it might have been. She grabbed hold of it and tucked it away in the deepest recess of her heart, all the while praying that he be returned back to them. But as the days went by painstakingly, that hope in her had started to wane. And the clenching ache she felt in her heart was torturous. Something she had never experienced before and never wanted to again.

Then he returned gloriously. And that pain which had been nipping away at her heart ebbed away and was replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. The transition in her feelings were rapid and abrupt, like running cold water over a burnt area. It left her high and dry. Back then she had promised to herself that she would never put herself in such a position ever again. Her weak and emotional sensibility had taken a hit that day, and she never wanted to feel weak again.

But it was happening all over again. It had only been three weeks since his return and he had disappeared yet again. Vanished off the grid. Eight hours ago she had texted him the address of the warehouse which belonged to Adam Stone. And four hours since he had last touched base before entering into the warehouse to investigate. It was an easy and simple mission. Open and shut case. Break in, scope around, come out and call it in. But there had been no response. What was he doing? Worse case scenarios were playing simultaneously in her mind like a motion picture. She could once again feel that cold, dank and visceral pain materialize in her chest, pushing away all those happy feelings which had dwelled there since; like the bright, red light fading away as the sun painstakingly descended behind the horizon, leaving the world at the mercy of darkness. Dangerous and unspeakable creatures hunted in the dark. And she was scared. Scared that those monsters had risen from hell and whisked him away again. For good this time. He would not return. She could imagine him; all bloodied, battered and broken; his clothes torn and askew; lying on a cold, hard floor, as the light in his green, resplendent eyes dimmed and life abandoned him. Slowly. Painfully.

So hence the pacing. For the last half an hour she had been briskly pacing the whole length of her office. The sharp heel of her shoes boring indelible marks on the carpeted floor. It was a wonder that no one from the floor below came charging up. Her face was tight and scrunched up in worry. The light make up felt heavy on her face. Lines were etched on her forehead. But it didn't feel any different because she couldn't remember the time when she didn't have worry lines on her forehead. She had carried those with herself for a long time. Now it was a part of her.

And she continued pacing. Left. Right. Left. Right. Her head bobbed up and down making her ponytail swish around like an unbound pendulum. Her left hand subconsciously wringing the fingers of her right as though she was squeezing droplets of water out of her clothes. Her eyes were not fixed in any one spot but were glazed over as her mind concocted numerous horrendous and ghastly predicament Oliver might have gotten himself into. Her mind was so very transfixed with this that she couldn't even feel the pain burgeoning in her calves from the constant pacing. But she trudged on. Tracing and retracing her paths recurrently. Hoping that time would pick up it's pace and bring about a more pleasant moment, leaving behind all the distress. Sitting still was unnerving her. She needed movement to shake herself out this deafening stillness which had enveloped her office.

Her office was located on the thirty-fifth floor. She had been surprised when Ray offered her this position along with this spacious office. It was not that she didn't deserve it. She did. Indubitably. It was just that she never expected to ascend from an anonymous IT girl to this. She just never expected to jump the hurdles in between.

An unearthly silence had engulfed her office. Usually it was bustling with activity, considering all the people approaching her for approval regarding various projects. But today she forbade them from interrupting her from her self imposed therapeutic walk about. The tables and furnitures silently and without any judgement bore witness to her frantic and erratic bouts of pacing.

Her office was swanky and spacious. The floor was fully carpeted and it muffled the sounds of her footsteps. The rug wasn't costly. A lay man could ascertain that much. It was just a plain, black rug woven out of some synthetic fibre. But it was immaculately clean, courtesy of daily vacuum cleaning by the janitor. She could even sleep on it without worrying about the dust antagonizing her allergies. A large sofa was pushed up against the wall which was fitted with costly upholstery. It was not tacky for the corporate environment nor was it gaudy. It was beige in color and didn't appear ostentatious. It blended in perfectly with the ambience of the office.

And directly opposite to the sofa, seven steps away, was her desk. It was a modest, metallic, chrome colored one, with lots of drawers. It was same for every employee but nonetheless she liked it. It was her own personal space upon which no one encroached. The desk was obsessively clean. She liked to keep her workspace sparse and neat. On one corner of the desk was a table lamp which stooped over a pen stand containing a dozen pens, a couple of note pads and around a dozen folders which were stacked tidily one over the other. The bright and flashy colors of the folders gave no indication to the importance and the severity of the matter inside. And on the other corner of the desk stood a computer, proud and erect. It cast a soft light on the chair standing near the desk. The chair and the computer were her safe haven. It took her mind of all the frivolous thoughts and the nefarious events around which her life usually revolved. There was a safety bubble which protected her from the cruel and unjust world. Everything would just slide over. She would travel to another impossible and distant magical world .

But now even this was unable to distract her from the matter at hand. This matter was weighing on her mind like a thirty pound dumbbell. And occasionally her eyes would skitter towards her cell phone which lay timidly on her desk next to the lamp. She was waiting for a call from Diggle, who was currently holed up in the cave, trying to locate Oliver. She was skittish and desperate. Her fingers itched to pick up the phone and call him herself, rather than wait for him to do so. But a part her was wary and afraid to hear any disappointing news that he might bear.

She sighed with apprehension. Her shoulders drooped. She was tired, and the exhaustion was catching up to her. She moved and stood in front of the window, as the las tray of the evening sunlight caressed her skin. Apart from her desk and computer, this was the favorite part of her office. The window was huge and it was fitted with reinforced fibre glass to prevent any kind of accident. But foremost of all it provided her with an unbridled view of the Starling City skyline.

The city which was decadent and ratty from down there, looked brilliant and magnificent from up here. The soft evening sunlight kissed the buildings and made their windows shimmer. Twilight was setting in slowly. The shadows were going to come creeping in any moment now bringing with it all kinds of monsters. But for now she wanted to enjoy this breathtaking and ephemeral moment. Starling was indeed a very beautiful city. If only people to take their time to sit back and appreciate it instead of complaining.

Myriad of red and blue marinated the evening sky as it slowly turned dusky. The tumultuous rise and fall of the buildings, the thin roads which snaked in and out between them and occasional tufts of greenery looked like a menacing maze of corridors. The convulsing traffic and the people on the streets below looked like skittering ants from up here. Watching the world from up here always put things in perspective for her. Like all her problems were insignificant. And she was just a small, insignificant cog in a huge machine. But in a way she felt powerful. This was how being a God must feel like, she wondered.

This beautiful and transient sight filled her with joy and hope. No matter how twisted and screwed up things were, in the end everything was going to be fine. She sighed and stood there for a few more minutes as she tried to soak in the view before the sun descended behind the horizon and reality set in. She watched as the intense and dazzling sun descended towards the horizon inch by inch and the world got darker and darker. And suddenly in a matter of seconds and the blink of an eye it was gone. Vanished. The horizon had gobbled up the sun and suddenly Starling was plunged into a blinding darkness and all the light on the streets came on precisely at that moment.

She exhaled and with a heavy heart turned around. Reality had set in and it was time to get back to work. She made a beeline for her desk and scooped up her phone. The screen flicked to life. It read 5.20 pm. Five hours now. That's how long it was now since Oliver disappeared. No call. No text. She didn't even know if he was alive or if he was out of that warehouse yet.

She had now and again flirted with the idea of calling Barry for help. But Diggle cut her off, reprimanding her for being selfish and inconsiderate. Barry had a whole city to take care of and he didn't want to burden him any further. She couldn't understand why Diggle cut her off though. Oliver was Barry's friend. And being the fastest man alive, he could certainly zoom to Oliver's location and give it a once over. If she didn't know any better she was certain that Barry would do it without having to be asked twice. Maybe that's why Oliver and Diggle were so reluctant to ask Barry for help except in extreme cases. Barry had always been obsequious when it came to the Arrow. He would trip over himself to help Oliver. She could understand that. She had done so herself too for the last two years.

Her thumb slid over the smooth screen of the phone and opened the phonebook and tapped on the first name on her recent call list. She had to touch base and see if Diggle had any news on Oliver's whereabouts. She felt her heart surge with an ephemeral sense of hope that he would bear good news.

She pressed the phone to her ear. The short, hollow burst of ringing did nothing but quicken her heartbeat. She was wary of the news that Diggle would have. Did he find Oliver? Was he safe? The tattoo of her heart beat in synchrony with the phone rings. Short and rapid. Maybe Diggle found Oliver. She let herself be encumbered by this sliver of hope that tugged at her heartstrings. Snuggling up tightly in it's warmth. Maybe he was safe. And if not then-

" _Hello Felicity._ " Diggle's deep voice cut through her musing and echoed across the line.

"John…any news? Did you find him?" breathed Felicity eagerly, as she felt her heart clench. And in her nervousness, her other hand had started fiddling with the edge of a notepad which lay on the table.

She heard Diggle sigh softly.

" _I am sorry Felicity….but there has been no word from Oliver yet._ "

And just like that her heart sank. The burgeoning hope in her chest burst crisply like a bubble.

She exhaled loudly into the receiver. The sadness and the frustration overwhelmed her.

" _Hey….Felicity….you Ok?_ " enquired a worried Diggle.

She turned around and ambled to the window and surveyed the city. Darkness had descended and the silver crescent of the moon silently hung up in the sky. Tiny, blinking lights brightened up the buildings and the streets far away. It looked heart wrenchingly beautiful but it only kindled a sense of melancholy inside her.

"Yeah…I am fine. It's just that….this is the second time he has disappeared and in the span of a month. He isn't even fully healed."

" _Oliver is more than just his body Felicity. He is fine. He will come back._ "

"But this wasn't supposed to turn out this way. It was supposed to go off without any hitch. He was only going to investigate. What do you think happened inside that warehouse? What if he is….?", she couldn't bring herself to say it.

" _He isn't dead Felicity. He is strong. He is a fighter. I don't know what happened in their but I know he will come back. We have to be brave and hold fort. And there is also the matter of Ra's. We have to be brave for the people of Starling._ "

She sighed and steeled herself. Diggle was right. There was a war going on outside and she had to be strong and fight on for the people of Starling. They depended on her and the team.

"You are right John. Oliver is strong. He will come back. We can't dwell on that. Now do you have anything on the missing girl?"

" _Nothing on her location. The only lead we had was the warehouse and Oliver went there looking and hasn't returned. I don't know what kind of danger is looming there._ "

"What about the cops? Did Laurel pass on the intel to Captain Lance?", asked Felicity.

" _Yes, she handed him the intel this morning just before Oliver entered the warehouse. He wanted to check out the warehouse first so he asked Laurel to refrain from handing over the information at once. The FBI are not moving from the spot. They don't want anything to do with the vigilante, so Lance is taking a bulk of SCPD and going to Central City to check out the warehouse._ " explained Diggle.

"That's all fine John but what if the cops go there and find Oliver. What if they arrest him? We will have another problem on our hands. A major one at that. Oliver was supposed to be out of there by the time the cops arrived. This little situation was unaccounted for by Oliver or by any of us for that matter."

" _Yes, I know that and like always he will have to improvise and wriggle his way out. He is experienced. He will get out._ " rationalized Diggle.

Felicity sighed. Why did he keep saying the same thing?

" Listen John. I know you and Oliver ganged up on me and vetoed my idea of calling Barry for help. I agreed with you then, but right now considering the situation I think we could really benefit from Barry's help. Maybe I should-"

" _Felicity, I don't think it a good-_ "

"No, don't tell it's not a good idea!" shrieked Felicity. She was livid all of a sudden. All those anger and frustrations which were latent, which had crumbled up into specks and dust had now melded together and flowed to her forefront like flowing molten lava, and it overwhelmed her.

"You and Oliver have been saying that since forever. Why don't you think it's a good idea, John? I think it's a good idea. I think it's the best idea we have had in centuries. The last time he went missing we had no way of reaching or helping him. He was left there in that mountain for dead John, broken and with nothing but a sword through his gut. It's enough to give anyone nightmares. And we couldn't help him. But now…..now we can help him. Why are you being so adamant? Is it some kind of personal vanity with you guys? Is it because of Oliver's inflated ego which tells him that he doesn't need anyone's help? Tell me John. Tell me…" she vented angrily. She was huffing and puffing with sudden irritation and annoyance at both of their petulance.

Diggle didn't reply at once. Maybe he was trying to process what she just said, or maybe he was just reeling from the fact the she had just raised her voice at him. She, Felicity, who had the innocence of a child, never raised her voice, at least not at him. She always radiated an image of happiness and jubilance. But now things were different, everyone was changing and evolving. This crusade was changing everyone.

She could hear Diggle's ragged breath on the phone. He wasn't speaking, which only infuriated her further.

"John…you there?" she barked into the receiver.

" _Yes…yes…I am here. I was just taken by surprise. You have never raised your voice at me before._ "

"Oh…cut the crap John. Answer my question. Why haven't we contacted Barry yet? He is the closest and the only one capable of helping him right now. Even the cops are headed there now. God forbid should something more disastrous happen. And it would really suck if we could have done something to prevent it and didn't."

" _Felicity, stop._ " said Diggle calmly. He had to diffuse this situation carefully and delicately. " _Take a deep breathe and calm down._ "

"I am not in the mood right now John. If you don't want me to fly off the handle again then answer my damn questions."

" _Ok…Ok….What I am trying to say is that this situation that Oliver has gotten himself into, it's delicate. We have no idea what's going on and neither did he. He went in expecting something and was welcomed by something else. Maybe it's nothing….maybe it's just a false alarm or maybe it's something deadly. Maybe he fell into a trap. And it will be stupid and idiotic of us if we send Barry in there without any prior knowledge about what he is walking into. Look at it from Oliver's perspective, he being the hero that he is, wouldn't want Barry to walk into this. And neither would I or you for that matter. Barry may have powers but he is still human. He will bleed if he is shot. We don't know what to expect in there. You are following me right? Oliver may be is in trouble but we have to be rationale about it even if it seems wrong. We can't let our emotions cloud our judgement. We shouldn't let Barry walk into it._ "

Hearing this Felicity let out a much needed breathe. She started massaging her forehead. The damn headache was back and wasn't helping much. Diggle was right and she knew it, but the truth didn't lessen it's bitterness. And she needed to hear it. Since she had joined this crusade she was aware that there would come a day when Oliver wouldn't return and their mission would implode. They would crumble like a sand castle. Back then that particular day seemed far away. But now she wasn't so sure anymore. Maybe for a man like Oliver there would never be a happy ending. Considering the rate at which he was going, there was only one way that this was going to end and it would be with his death. Right now she couldn't see any other way out.

" _Felicity…you there?_ " pipped Diggle.

She took off her spectacle and tossed it on the table. " Yeah….yeah….I am right here."

"Y _ou are Ok….right?_ " asked Diggle cautiously, in case she started ranting again.

Her anger had pretty much subsided now. The reason why Oliver didn't want Barry's help made sense to her now. It was never a matter of ego or vanity. For him it is always about preserving lives. If he could he would preserve even a single life minutes before his death. As the saying goes - once a hero always a hero. Even from his death bed.

"Yeah, I am Ok now. I understand now John. I understand everything. I knew that this crusade was going to be difficult…not only physically but also emotionally. But I never envisioned it coming to this…when we had to walk away from one of our own even when we had means to help him. It's just hard…."

" _Oh no…Felicity. We aren't walking away. We are waiting…biding our time to see what it brings to our doorstep. Time can really turn the tide in our favor. Think of it as playing chess, only with very high stakes. We have to wait and see how the opponent moves and then try and out think him. Right now time is our only ally._ "

"I understand John, well not so much the chess reference. But the other thing. And I am not holding it against you. We all have to make tough calls sometimes. And I am only thinking about myself. You were friends with him longer than I. It must really hurt you to have to make this call. To have to condemn your friend to this fate."

" _You have no idea how much it hurts. I am really pissed at him for having put me in this position. I don't wanna be the one to pull the trigger that kills him. But then I think about the real reason behind all this and I can make a little sense of all this complexity. It's tough._ " confessed Diggle.

"Hmmm…well then John in that case I have a proposition for you."

" _What proposition?_ " asked Diggle curiously.

" Two hours." she stated.

" _What?_ " asked Diggle.

"Two hours. That's how long I am going to wait before I call Barry and ask for his help."

" _What? After everything I just explained to you, you are back to square one. Oliver explicitly said-_ "

"Oh John…screw Oliver and his rules. He isn't boss anymore and he most certainly isn't dying under our watch. We are his friends. We are supposed to have his back even if he doesn't want it. He asked us not to go to Barry for help right? Well I am going to honor this wish of his. But only for two more hour. You are either with me or without. Even if you are not I am gonna call him. And there is nothing you can do about it. So what do you say?"

" _But….Felicity…_ "

She could hear his resolve wavering and decided to press on.

"No buts John. Look, two hours is more than enough and reasonable. If Oliver touches base in that time then it is well and good, and we go back with our lives. But if not then the Flash goes in. And he won't be alone…he will have the cops to back him up. Captain Lance will be there within an hour and a half. So whatever trouble is brewing in that warehouse the cops can take care of it while Barry gets Oliver out. Plain and simple. What do you say?"

Her rambling was met with silence from the other end. She couldn't even hear him breathe. Maybe he is holding it, she thought.

Then suddenly, " _Yes._ " came his deep voice.

"What?"

" _You heard me, I said yes. I am in. You are right. Oliver may have started this crusade but this isn't his anymore. He can't order us around and he most certainly isn't dying under our watch. So two more hours Felicity. Then we call Barry._ " said Diggle with a new found resolve.

"Good."

" _Ok then. Two hours._ " reiterated Diggle.

She heard Diggle exhale deeply and say, " _So today has been pretty taxing, huh?_ "

"Yeah…today, yesterday…tiring. I could even get a proper sleep."

" _Yeah, me too. My eyes are burning._ "

" Ok John….I am gonna hang up now. I will be there in an hour." said Felicity.

" _Ok. Bye._ "

"Wait…John?" interrupted Felicity.

" _Yeah?_ "

"What are we gonna do in the mean time?" asked Felicity.

" _Huh….well I don't know. Pray and hope that Oliver is Ok and that he forgot to touch base because he is busy with some hot chick he just met._ "

And he hung up.

Felicity gingerly lowered the phone from her ear and tossed it roughly on her desk. It clanked loudly on the steel surface, but she didn't care.

She rubbed the tiredness from the eyes.

"Hope….." she whispered into the air. The word felt alien to her now.

That was all she could do right now. Hope that wherever Oliver was right now, he was OK.

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Author's Note : As always I would like to begin by thanking you guys for reading my story and reviewing, following and favoriting it. It means a lot to me that you guys approve.

Since the last chapter was pretty intense, I tried to lighten the intensity with this chapter. I hope you like it. It isn't much. This chapter isn't action packed. It is slow. But it is crucial for the progress of the story. It is mostly introspection and retrospection on Felicity's part. I tried to show a side of her which we never get to see on the show. And as far as Oliver's fate goes, you will learn about it in the next chapter. It's gonna be action packed, I promise.

Well I would like to thank you guys again for the support and implore you to read, review and follow it.

Peace out.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER - 8

"Slade….." Oliver whispered into the darkness and his spirit fizzled out. His body was numb and his spine was tingling with fear. The unpleasant and distressing memories came rushing to the forefront of his mind like water gushing out of a broken dam. And all those horrible, terrible memories frightened and overwhelmed him.

For him, Slade Wilson was the embodiment and the personification of the very evil he was trying to fight for almost a decade now. This was evil at it's purest form. Slade Wilson was beyond repair, beyond redemption, at least in his eyes. He had treaded down a path from which there was no return.

But they were so very similar in many ways. On the island both were brothers in arm, until the death of a woman they both loved turned one against the other. And Slade, in his mirakuru addled rage, had turned into a mindless, soulless killer. Back then Oliver had managed to somehow scrape through, not unscathed though. And in return for all the trouble, pain and torture that he had been put through, Oliver had taken his eye from him in return. He had hoped that it would be the last he ever saw of this man. But alas! it was not to be.

"Hello kid….Miss me" snarled Slade with his low, deep and raspy voice.

Oliver shivered involuntarily. That low, throaty growl of his kindled another memory in him which made him shudder. He didn't want to go there but his mind snapped back to it of it's own accord. There was the horrible and painful memory of a limpid, black, moonless night, which he so succinctly remembered. The distinct whiff of the soil in that forest and the soft wind blowing and crashing against the nape of his neck, all came back. Rather painfully.

It was on that fateful night that a broken, helpless man, and most importantly a son, had lost his mother. And the behemoth standing in front of him was the one responsible for it. He had tied Oliver down, shackled him and held a katana to both his mother's and sister's throat. Both of them were quivering and shaking with fear, uncontrollably. His sister was weeping as the tears trickled down her face, unbridled. She was terrified. Her face was puffy and her wet eyes were exuding a flood of swirling emotions. Whereas his mom, even though she too was sobbing uncontrollably, was begging Slade to let her family go. And this image broke Oliver's heart. This man was threatening his family and there was nothing he could do about it.

So he twisted, wriggled, kicked and squirmed against the ropes as it cut into his wrists and arms. The dirt and grime from the forest floor rubbed against his cheek and got mingled in his hair.

And then the mad man made him choose. Something reminiscent of another dark night in his life many years ago, when he had to choose between the lives of two women that he loved.

He taunted, jibed and hurled insults at him, urging him to make the choice. The same one he made years ago, or to put it more precisely couldn't make. And it was happening all over again. He couldn't choose then, and he didn't think he had it in him to be able to do it now. A choice between his mother and sister? Whom did he love more? How could he choose one?

He screamed and shouted till his voice broke, all the while struggling against the ropes, and begging him to let them go. His heart clenched painfully and his whole body throbbed as he realized that there was nothing he could do to stop this. All this power, all this skills and when it came to protecting his family, there was nothing he could do about it. And then Oliver watched in excruciating agony, as his mother ever so gracefully and unflinchingly laid down her life to protect her family. No child should witness their mother's death. But there they were, brother and sister, sprawled on the leaf littered forest ground, as they weeped and weeped their hearts out for their slain mother. On that night, with nothing but her children and the trees and foliages to bear witness, Moira Queen took her last breathe. Anyone looking in on this black hole of despair would also have had their heart broken.

Oliver staggered back from the weight of the memory. It was like the ceiling had just collapsed on him. The pain and despair was still fresh. Like an oil paint laid out to dry. Etched indelibly in his mind. It felt like it was only yesterday. He could still remember his mother's dead face as she lay on the ground beside him for hours. Her face pallid and her eyes, glassy, vacant and dead. If he just raised his hand he could maybe caress his mother's face; feel the cold, hard, papery skin under his finger tips.

He exhaled and shook himself out of his musing. He gripped his bow hard in anger as he steeled himself. Seeing Slade out of the blue had floored him. But now he was stable, out of the angry haze. He took a deep breathe and slowed his heart rate, in the process calmed himself. Anger wasn't going to help him in this situation. As he always said, an angry mind is a narrow mind.

" Slade….what are you doing here?" he growled.

The man slowly stepped into the light; the echoes emanating from the crump of his boots rose and fell curtly. Oliver got a closer look at the man who tried to kill him several months ago. He looked the same as the last time. Except that he was burlier and broader than before. He was strapping a lot more muscles underneath that battle suit of his. By Oliver's quick estimation, he must have gained about thirty pounds. His face was the same. It hadn't aged a day. The same deadly snarl sat there, contorting his surly face in the process. A black eye patch covered one eye of his which Oliver had, in his malice, taken away from him. His other eye, all dark and Stygian like a moonless night, regarded him with disgust and abhorrence. As though he was something akin to a filthy roach. The beard which he sported on his rugged and bony face was neatly trimmed. His face radiated a sense of anger and hatred.

To Oliver it seemed that he had been preparing for this day since forever. He was even garbed in his battle suit. The yellow-black suit fitted him snugly, like a glove. It was clean and shone perfectly under the dim light. The suit had so many padding and armor that it rendered him almost invulnerable to bullets. It made him look huge, like a hulking ship to his small, dingy timber raft. He had a gun holstered on both his hips, explosives strapped to a belt across his muscular chest, a katana sheathed on his back. All in all, he radiated an image of power and control. This vibe of his was enough to make his enemies cower in fear or run in the opposite direction. Even Oliver felt a tingle of fear run down his spine.

"Oh! the anger and malice dripping from your mouth. Such hostility." taunted Slade. "Aren't you happy to see me? Can't you feel the conviviality of this evening? We have Amanda here to thank for this friendly reunion."

He didn't reply immediately because he was aware of the other three moving slowly and forming a tight circle around him and the unconscious girl, trapping them in the process. Slade and Amanda stood side by side facing him. He knew he was trapped. The only way to his escape was through the four of them. But he didn't let it faze him.

He turned back towards Slade and scoffed, "Friends?"

Slade smirked. "Of course, we are friends. My time in that prison gave me clarity and perspective. You see kid, last year we were locked in battle and there were collateral damages, some on your part and some on mine. But during that time we couldn't really harm each other could we? We came so close. Oh, how angry I was at you. I wanted to rip you limb from limb with the strength coursing through me. But I didn't. I couldn't. I beat myself up everyday, thinking about why I couldn't beat. Why I couldn't kill you. How you could escape before I tightened the noose around your neck. And I know why now. It's because we are the same. Brother's in arm."

Oliver snorted in disgust. "You killed my mother. You tried to destroy my city. The Slade that was my brother died on that island, many years ago."

"Oh…he's still here all right. He just grew up." cooed Slade, in his deep, husky voice. "Don't forget who taught you how to fight, kid. That island is home. For the both of us. It's where we were born. I created you and in turn you created me the moment you killed Shado."

"I did not kill Shado." reiterated Oliver to him, something which he had been doing for the past million years.

"Yes, you DID!" thundered Slade, his demeanor changing instantly from calm to irate in the matter of mere seconds. " You killed her. And you will pay for it in blood. I am here to make sure of it." His loud, angry voice plunged through the silence enveloping the cavernous hall. The veins on his neck were taut with strain.

Oliver had had enough. He didn't want or need to listen to the rambling of a mad man. The mirakuru really did a number on him. He wasn't stable. Amanda was playing with fire here. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into by letting Slade go.

He turned towards Amanda.

"Amanda…..you let this monster go?" he demanded angrily.

Her eyes flickered towards him while her face remained as stoic as ever. The corner of her lips flicked up as a light, ghostly smile played on her lips. "I did what I had to do. To kill one monster I needed another." she said simply, as though it summed up everything that was transpiring in that warehouse.

Oliver growled in anger and frustration. Amanda had gone stark crazy and so had the world.

"Amanda….you have gone crazy. You are not thinking straight. You know what he did. He almost destroyed Starling. There is no version of this where it ends favorably for you." said Oliver.

Slade slowly drifted moved towards his right slowly and let loose a low, empty crackle of a laugh. "Favorable for us? You are delusional as ever, kid. You believe there is a version of this where it ends favorably for you. I know you kid. I know your capabilities, your limits, your fears. You may have bested me twice but you can't beat all of us at once. This is where the road ends for you."

Oliver growled, "You are a monster Slade. I put you in that cell and you deserved to rot in there for the rest of eternity. I should have killed you in that island, but I didn't. And I paid for that dearly. Maybe in someway it's my fault. Maybe I contrived this situation. But I intend to do the right thing now. I am gonna put you down Slade. Once and for all. Amanda shouldn't have let you out."

The smile on Slade's face only deepened at this. His pearly white teeth a stark contrast against his dark, hirsute chin. Mirth was swirling in his eye in galore. Confidence and conviction had set into his face.

"As I said….you have grown more delusional than ever hiding behind that hood, kid. You don't deserve to wear it, you murderer. But we will get to that later, won't we? You speak ill of Amanda here….but she has been nothing but nice and helpful to me. For the past ten months I was rotting away in that cell you put me in. I was angry….Oh! you have no idea how angry I was. I had nothing to do but wallow in my own anger and failure; staring day in day out at that pale, smutty ceiling….. I had memorized every cracks and crevices running on the ceiling. I was desperate. You say time heals everything, huh. Well it doesn't. One thing I learnt there is that time can't heal or quell the burning anger, rage….the fever… It only elevates it….. Aggravates it….. Every night I dreamt I was choking you, strangling you with my bare hands, feeling your throat convulsion and protesting against my brute and raw strength…and I got to watch that pathetic look of dread and fear creep into your eyes as the light slowly dimmed from them. You twisted and clawed desperately at my arms and face, trying to speak, trying to escape; but I held on…..My indomitable love for Shado persisted as I wrung your neck like that of a chicken's. I savored the moment as I watched you struggle… as I watched you feel sorry for what you did to her. In that moment, you revealed to me your true self…The emotions that fleeted across your face in that moment was priceless and so very addictive. I replayed and lived that moment again and again in my mind… I realized that I could live off of it. I was addicted to a dream. A dream where I finally killed you… But eventually that wasn't enough; I needed the real thing. I was something akin to a junkie who was made to live off the fake, adulterated shit. I wanted the real thing. I wanted the hit. So here I am….."

"Those were dark days for me. I prayed and prayed that I get a way out of this hell hole. Kind of ironic isn't it. A hell hole within a hell hole. I was making plans everyday; devising ways to kill you slowly and painfully. And then suddenly out of the darkness emerged an angel. It was like taking a breathe after a long time….Amanda, here, out of the blue came to me with a proposition. She wanted me to kill you. I mean I was shocked beyond explanation. There I was rotting away in that prison, hatching plans to get my revenge and then she waltz in there with my exact desire….Was it fate or coincidence?….. Was there a higher power pulling the strings?… Someone up there wanted me to kill you, so they dropped it on my lap. It was a gift horse in the mouth. Then I thought, was it God? Did he really want you after all the things you did? After all the people you killed?… After Shado?" he spluttered. "Then suddenly I realized that it wasn't God that was calling for you. It was the devil. He wants you all for himself. Not only will you be punished in this life, you will also be punished in afterlife. There is no escape for you. I am here to make sure of that."

Oliver listened to everything intently, as the disjointed feelings of pity and disgust welled up in the pit of his stomach. He was unequivocally sure that Slade had lost his sanity a long time ago, but that did stop him from pitying the broken, rambling man standing in front of him. He so vaguely remembered the essence of good in the man and how he had taught him to defend himself. He was someone whom he once revered. But it was a long time ago in a far off land where hope never persisted. The man that he remembered was the product of an archaic world; a world which no longer existed and which was no longer worth pondering over.

And eventually the burgeoning disgust swept the pity away, like the wind sweeping the autumn leaves off the floor. Disgust at what the man from that archaic world had been reduced to. It was as if his deep seated sense of goodness and justice had been twisted and warped into a vague, flimsy apparition. His sense of right and wrong had been bastardized and it had eventually been convoluted into one and the same thing. He was now incapable of distinguishing between the two.

"You are sick Slade. Your time in the dungeons has turned you crazier than ever. You need to be committed in a psychiatric cell. Maybe you should try Belle Reeve."

Before Slade could respond, Lawton chuckled derisively and pipped in, " We ain't the one's who need treatment bro. It's you who needs it. This isn't gonna be some kind of a brawl where we decide who the best is. This right here, right now is an operating table…..And we are the surgeons, who are gonna deracinate the illness out. The illness being you. Mind you, our lives are gonna be a lot easier without you in it."

Oliver didn't respond and decided to remain placid. The feelings and emotions that were rushing through him were alien, even to him. The anger surging through him and the shock due to Amanda's apparent betrayal and the sudden ingress of this deranged squad of killers were all enough to put him in a perpetual state of befuddlement. This right here was an unrehearsed scene. It was too much for him to comprehend. Too overwhelming.

An unsettling and edgy silence had descended upon them all of a sudden. There was something unnerving about it. The air was suddenly laden with an uncertain heaviness. It was as if the whole ambience of the hall was supported by a thin, rickety scaffolding. A small push or even a surreptitious nudge to it would send everything crashing down. This heaviness was weighing upon them. All of them. It was evident by the disparaging scowls deepening on their faces. Oliver knew what this dead silence was. It was the lull before a storm. A small window of unpleasant silence before the flood gates banged open and their world turned upside down.

Slade, ever so delicately, turned his neck towards Amanda, as though a sharp turn would destabilize and collapse the whole dilapidated ambience of the hall, " Amanda….I suggest you get the girl out of here while you still can. Because once it starts I can't guarantee that it won't get messy."

She looked at him once and gave a curt nod. And she made her way towards the girl, who was currently lying few steps behind Oliver.

Oliver perked up at this particular conversation. The girl? He had forgotten about her and her situation in the midst of all this madness. What did Amanda want with her now? She has served her purpose by bringing him out here. Was Amanda gonna kill her? After what he experienced right now, he wouldn't put it past her if she killed the girl and pinned it on him.

And he wasn't going to let that happen.

He backtracked as quickly as he could and stood in front of the girl, shielding her in the process from any incoming assault coming his way. Although his back was unguarded, what with Carrie standing behind him with an arrow trained at him. But he knew she wouldn't attack without the consent of the leader.

So he quickly nocked an arrow and pointed it at the briskly approaching figure of Amanda, his profile erect and taut.

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Author's note - As usual I would like to thank everyone for the reviews, favorites and the follows. You guys make my day. I am really grateful and thankful to all of you for sticking with me so far. I know the story can get a bit dragging and boring but that's how it is. I am keeping it as grounded as possible. And with regards to the lack of romance in this story, I would just like to say that it will develop later on in the story.

This chapter is actually just for filler. Actually this is half the chapter. I have completed the whole chapter and am holding on to the second half for now. I will publish that after three days. I hope you don't get bored by this. I tried to delve into Slade's psyche, and show what drives him and makes him tick.

So I sincerely hope you like and please don't forget to drop reviews.

Peace out.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER - 9

"Stop!", he commanded, with conviction. She halted on the spot as though someone had just hit the pause button on her.

"Don't come near her. You have already done enough harm by kidnapping this innocent girl. Now you want to kill her?"

An apprehensive look fleeted across her face, as though she was sick and tired of indulging his childish and juvenile whims. And this enquiry of his seemed juvenile to her; something which could be dismissed and chucked into the bin with the mere flick of her hand.

She rolled her eye at him and said, "Don't get over dramatic about it. There is five of us against you. Don't make us force our hand before it is necessary. You have been making foolish decision from the beginning. So now….get out of the way, before they make you."

She hurled this threat at him in a solemn, sombre tone, embellished with a slight undertow of malice and contempt.

"You can't in good conscious expect me to just stand back and let you take her. You are just gonna kill her and pin it on me." said Oliver with an incredulous tone.

She scoffed at him. "As tempting as it sounds, I am gonna take a pass on that. I already said that the plan was to paint you as a martyr…a hero. You saved the girl but sacrificed your life in the process. I am just gonna administer the antidote and drop her off outside the Central City police station. She has been under it's effect for a long time. A few more hours and she could be paralyzed permanently. You don't want that do you?"

He growled. Well….she got him there. He couldn't deny her the antidote just to keep her safe from the only person that could keep her alive. He was in an impossible situation here. An impasse. What was he supposed to do now?

"How can I trust that you will take her to the police station and not kill her?"

"Well you don't. I am not here to accrue your trust." she quipped. " And as for what I do with her, that's for you to find out later or in your case, you

won't. But the Mayor and his wife will."

Oliver considered her words for a moment. There was a ring of harsh, brusque truth to her telling. So he acquiesced to her wishes. He lowered his bow and stepped aside, making way for Amanda to pass through.

She whizzed past him at the same brisk pace with which she had began before he had stopped her. She halted when she reached the girl and slowly but gracefully sunk down to the ground to get in level with her.

Oliver was privy to the whole scene unfolding in front of him, and at some level it filled him with a cold dread.

Amanda slipped her hand into her right pocket and pulled out a syringe, which was about five inches in length with a two inch long needle. He could make out the blue liquid swirling inside it. She then proceeded on wards to slightly pull down her collar. She moved her hand on her neck trying to feel for her jugular nerve. Once she felt it she slowly tilted the syringe and pushed it into her neck. Oliver watched as the needle almost reluctantly broke through the skin and sunk into her nerve. She deftly pushed the piston of the syringe and then swiftly pulled it out. A drop of blood oozed out of the minuscule puncture, which she wiped off with a finger. And then she remained as still as a rock, gazing upon the body.

The girl remained still and motionless. There was no perceivable change in her appearance. Her skin was as pallid and chalk white as a corpse. Maybe the antidote didn't work, he thought. Then after about thirty second he could see the faint, muted colors return to her cheeks and lips. Now she looked more alive. She coughed and spluttered; a soft protesting groan escaped her now red lips. Her closed eyelids fluttered faintly, as if they were trying arduously to fight against the drowsiness induced by the drug and flicker open. They flickered some more, like something akin to the flutter of a butterfly's wing, only more subdued; almost on the verge of opening when-

"Don't open your eyes Margaret." commanded Amanda.

And her eyes stopped fluttering and remained closed.

"Margaret….I want you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that?" asked Amanda politely.

"Yes." replied Margaret mechanically, her voice hoarse from almost twelve hours of silence. Her face had a calm and casual demeanor but her eyes never opened.

"Very well. Almost twelve hours ago you were kidnapped from the front gate of your college by two burly man whose identities are nondescript to you. They gagged and tied you to a chair and held you in a dark, cavernous hall with a musty smell which is overwhelming to the nose. You were hungry and dehydrated so you passed out. You follow so far?"

"What the hell are you doing to her Amanda?" Oliver voiced his concern.

Her head whipped back like a snapping rubber band as she regarded him. "What does it look like I am doing? I am whispering suggestions and planting memories so that when the cops question her she can lead them back here so that they can find your body here. This new XF-25 drug allows you to do that."

She turned back to the girl, "Margaret do you follow?"

"Yes" she voiced.

"If the cops question you, tell them that the Arrow rescued you and took you out of building in which you were held. Once outside, you saw clusters of trees and bushes. He asked you to keep running through the woods until you reach the main road and wave down any car and ask to be taken to the police station. Tell the cops that you were held in a warehouse which is deep in between the woods. It is five miles outside Central City. Once the Arrow let you outside with all the instructions he went in to take care of the kidnappers. Then you ran and ran through the woods until you reached the main road from where you hitch hiked your way back to the city. You will tell all of this to the cops. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. And one more thing. You will forget that it was I who suggested these things to you. You experienced everything and remember them of your own accord. Ok?"

"Ok."

"Good. Now you are going to get up and we are going to get out of here. And I am gonna assist you in your safe passage to the police station. And do not open your eyes until I say so" said Amanda.

Amanda got up abruptly and locked her hand on the girls arm and pulled her up, slowly and carefully. The girl rose to her full height, but her eyes remained closed at all times. Her clothes were bunched up and wrinkled, and her hair on the back of her head was splayed in all directions from the constant lying down. She swayed a little trying to gain her balance but Amanda had a tight grip on her arm, thus steadying her.

"What you did to her isn't right. You are gonna pay for this Amanda. Someday. The world is gonna know the truth." warned Oliver.

"Maybe…." she said. "But not today. Today is your judgement day."

And then she walked away with the girl towed gracefully beside her.

"Boys." she called out loud, as she kept on walking away from the scene. "Make quick work of him. Don't make it messy and don't leave behind any evidence."

"Aye, aye cap" sang Harkness.

And then everyone turned towards him and tightened their grip on him with their glares. He turned his head and looked around. He was in the centre of their circle. Like a terrified lamb ready to be slaughtered.

Now to cross this hurdle he had to be cold and calculative. He had to make certain decisions very quickly and take certain steps which might give him the edge. Three against one he could handle. But four against one turned the odd against him especially if that forth one turned out to be Slade Wilson.

He had to take out Slade first. Quickly and efficiently. He was the leader of the team, perceivably. And as was the case with any kind of team, if the leader was taken out first it left the team disconcerted and disoriented. But all the same he had to be careful. These were a team of professional killers. All very proficient at working alone. Maybe they would function the same without their leader. He couldn't bank on this plan of his alone. What if it backfired? He had to be flexible and not let his thinking be fettered by a plan or structure. He had to make it up as he went along. He had to improvise.

And most importantly he had to leave behind a message for Amanda and the government. No one plays him. If it was a fight for the greater good then he wasn't just gonna sit back and let them skewer him to death. He was gonna fight and return back. Because the people of Starling needed him. His friends needed him. And this most certainly wasn't the last battle he would fight.

The click of Amanda's heels and her silhouette faded into the darkness. The five of them were left in here to duke it out.

"Everyone fan out. Make sure he doesn't escape. And no one touch him until I say so. I have a score to settle with him." called Slade to the others.

Then slowly and carefully he reached behind him and pulled out his katana from it's sheath. He twirled it in his hand and held it upright with both his hands; hilt down, blade up and feet outstretched. A perfect stance. The blade shone brilliantly, glinting under the dim yellow light. The blade was about twenty three inch long and the hilt was about nine to ten inch long. Since the sword was a double handed sword and tailored for more hacking and slashing, Oliver surmised that Slade would have difficulty wielding and swinging it indoor; well in any constricted area. But this hall was hardly constricted by any definition.

Oliver took a deep breathe and released it and got into his fighting stance. He had about nineteen arrows left in his quiver, spanning over an assortment of explosive, taser, grappling and many other arrows. He had to be clever and efficient. He turned around and surveyed the others. They were all in their fighting stance and staring down hard at him. On paper, this might well be his last battle.

And God forbid, if this was his last then he was gonna give it everything he had. If it was the matter of survival between him and them then he had to unleash his inner beast to ensure his survival. He would have to fight tooth and nail for it.

Since Amanda's premature departure, a chilly and deafening silence had encompassed the hall. The temperature had suddenly plummeted eerily. The only heat being generated was from the deadly, unflinching stares which were directed his way. The atmosphere had thickened. It could be cleaved into two with Slade's sword. The burgeoning tension between them was almost palpable. Oliver could almost taste it on his tongue. Everyone was waiting for the other to move.

He could make out their skittering eyes as they measured and gauged his actions and reactions, trying hard to ascertain his intention. And in return he did the same. He wasn't worried about the other three. Slade had given them clear and explicit instruction, warning them against attacking him without his consent. He regarded Slade carefully, trying to read every movement, every twitch of his. Trying to discern his intention or his attack patterns.

But he couldn't move. He was locked in place. And so was every one else. There was something in the air which was holding them back, making their limbs go numb and lazy. It was like trying to walk thigh deep in mud. Like running in a dream where no matter how hard and fast you run you couldn't reach your destination. It was like a dense haze had descended and immobilized them. This hedonistic haze had put their mind in a perpetual sense of safety. This misconstrued sense of safety had taken root because of this stalemate between them. Neither party wanted to take the first step. It was like playing an age old game of chess, where all the moves took place in their heads instead of the board.

Oliver watched as Slade's brows furrowed in a disparaging scowl. That same scowl was mirrored on his own face, not due to annoyance or anger but more so due to intense pressure of the situation. He felt a drop of sweat slide slowly and painstakingly down from his hairline, along his temple and cheek to his stubbled chin. It seemed that in this dire situation the droplet enjoyed and relished it's journey down north. Even though the temperature had dropped in the hall, he couldn't help but feel warm in his suit.

But in spite of it all, he had never felt more alive. His visual, auditory and olfactory senses were heightened. He knew it was due to the adrenaline that was released into his bloodstream as his brain deemed this current situation to be dangerous. He could almost imagine the chemical sloshing and splashing through his blood vessels and making it's way to different parts of his body. This rush was going to help him in his endeavor. He felt light headed and confident all of a sudden.

He returned his gaze to Slade. The man was still maintaining his stance with the sword held in position. He hadn't moved a muscle. He looked like a wax statue set out to dry. Under the dim light he could make out the glistening sweat on his forehead. The tension and the imposing atmosphere was also taking a toll on him. The ever present scowl on his face had deepened to a point where it was impossible to contort his face any further. Oliver wondered if at some point due to constant scowling Slade might have to live with a permanent scowl.

His hirsute chin rose upwards as his thin lips were curved down wards in a sneer. "So Oliver Queen….are we gonna stand on ceremony here?"

He heard sharp gasps from the other three around him.

Apparently his secret was out. But right now he didn't have time to worry about that.

"I don't know. Are we?" shot back Oliver.

And the silence swirled back and settled down again like sediments. The heaviness returned. Almost overflowing. Oozing over the brim of the cup that was the hall. A slight tilt or a nudge would send everything overflowing. Everything had slowed down. He was aware of the tiniest of moats eddying up in the air. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, beating away incessantly. It was a surprise to him, considering how loud it was, that no one was able to hear it. It's rhythm was synonymous with that of a beating drum before the advent of a war, meant to augment the emotions and the enthusiasm of the solders. He could hear blood gushing in his ear.

So this was it. It was now or never. He couldn't stall any longer.

He hung his bow on his shoulder and took two steps forward, so that if Slade came charging towards him, his subconscious mind would know that there was empty space behind him in case he needed to back out.

And on his cue, all hell broke loose.

He had broken the deadlock.

Releasing a savage battle cry, Slade charged towards him. He was leading in with his right shoulder. The sword was gripped in both his hands and was raised up and over his left side. His eye, a pit of swirling anger and determination, held a certain amount of certainty and belief in his own prowess. He was traversing the distance between them very easily and gracefully, like that of a galloping horse. Fast yet powerful. From a distance his approach looked slow, but as he got nearer Oliver was overwhelmed by his power and speed. It was as if a gigantic boulder was barreling towards him; it's power and size disorienting him. He could almost feel the ground rumble angrily with every step he took as he came barraging towards him.

Normally, if it would have been anyone else charging towards him, Oliver wouldn't have waited for the other guy to come to him. He would have charged as well and met him halfway. Because moving up is always better than moving back. It disorients the opponent. It blossoms in him a last minute doubt as his offensive assault segues clumsily into a defensive panic, leaving him helpless.

But this wasn't just any body. This was Slade Wilson, a former SAS member. The one who taught him to fight, the one who taught him all the basic trick; someone who he couldn't catch off guard. But he wasn't that same helpless kid he once was. He too had evolved and picked up a trick or two of his own on the way. And he had defeated Slade twice before.

He let that thought embolden his spirit.

So he ascertained that it would be unwise to charge Slade, considering the velocity and momentum he had already gained. He decided on staying loose and limber. A vague plan took shape in his mind. He decided to let Slade come to him. Let him commit. Let him take the first swing. If he showed him his moves then he would also reveal to him his weaknesses.

And that would help Oliver take him apart.

Slade was almost upon him. He could feel the raw, visceral power emanating from him. It was almost animalistic, like that of a hunting lion. When Slade was just two steps away he jumped forward, with his sword held upward over his head, and took a skipping stride to put power, force and momentum behind the swing. As he zipped through the air towards him, he brought his sword down in a cyclic arc like a hammer striking the anvil. He watched closely as the deadly piece of metal blurred through the air towards his right shoulder.

And at exactly the right moment, just before the sword was two inches away from his shoulder, Oliver stepped aside. He kept his left foot planted firmly on the ground and moved his right foot back parallel to his left foot. While doing so he had made a right angle turn backwards. His body was parallel to the vertical swing of the sword. The blurry blade swung past him at blinding pace, as he heard the unmistakable _zip_ made by it cutting through the air. It had missed him by an inch. The short ripples of air generated by the quick snap of the sword caressed his face and chest.

With a short grunt, Slade pulled his sword back up and over his head, intending to strike again. His eye was ablaze with anger and loathing. Oliver took a step back, bringing his left foot back parallel to his right in the process. He had reverted back to his original position.

Again with an affronted fervor Slade went for the same move, bringing his sword down with blinding speed. But this time he aimed at his left shoulder. And Oliver again swerved out of the way by bringing his left foot behind the right foot and moving back at a right angle. The sword again whizzed past him.

Oliver watched as the sword arched past his body slowly as though relishing it's downwards journey. At one point of it's downward descend the sword had reached it's lowest position, pointed towards the ground. Slade's arms were pointed downwards and his body stooped just in front of his own body.

And that is when Oliver struck. Like a snake striking down it's prey hard and fast, zipping through the air like thunder. His right hand shot out and caught hold of his left hand, thus locking it in place. Slade tried to yank his arm free but Oliver's hold was tight and fast. His face contorted into a snarl and his eye swirled with loath and repugnance.

So Slade did the only thing possible and viable. Impetuously, he released the hilt of the sword from his left hand and pulled the sword up over his head using his right hand. They were both in close contact with each other, their body grazing against each other. Their ideologies colliding in a devastating explosion. Slade raised his sword clumsily as far over his right shoulder as this constricted space afforded him, considering the iron tight hold Oliver had on his wrist, and swung it down diagonally, aiming for the region between his head and right shoulder.

And Oliver had seen this move coming from a long way out. Being flexible is what this was called. He knew that once he had shackled his left hand, Slade would use his right hand to swing his sword. There was a reason that Oliver had held Slade close to his body. He had decided on this tactic the moment he saw Slade draw his blade. The katana was a huge sword with a two handed hilt. It did well outdoors and was efficient from a distance, but it wasn't as effective in close counters. And when wielded with a single hand, the wielder couldn't put must power behind his strike and it tended to get clumsy.

And such was the case with Slade.

Oliver twisted his body and neck towards the left as best he could, to avoid the blade from cleaving him into two all the while trying to maintain the tight hold he had on his wrist. And again the sword missed and swung past his right shoulder narrowly missing it. There was no real power behind it. There was only the graceless motion of his arm and a surreptitious _'humph'_ which escaped his lips.

Slade's arm travelled downwards to complete the follow through of the swing. So Oliver struck again, this time with his unoccupied left hand. His left hand shot through the air and caught hold of his right hand wrist, thus securing it in place. Now both his hand and and the sword were locked and secured in Oliver's hold. Slade couldn't move both his hands now nor the sword.

Now Oliver had both his hands crossed in a tangle in front of him. His left hand held onto Slade's right while his right hand held onto his left. All of the action unfolded in a matter of seconds in front of his eyes, so had to improvise accordingly. It wasn't graceful but it seemed to have got the work done. He had restrained Slade for the time being and stopped his endless assault with the sword.

And that was when the real struggle began.

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Author's note - As usual I would like to thank everyone for reading this story. And thank you for all the follows, favorites and the reviews.

As promised here is the next chapter. The fight scene here is kind of a teaser. It isn't much. The next chapter has the bulk of the fight scene and I have completed about 70% of it. That chapter is seriously kicking my ass. I mean, I am sweating more writing that chapter than a half hour game of basketball. The next chapter is the toughest I have ever written. Sometimes I feel like pulling my hairs out. Sorry…totally going out of context here. Anyway…this chapter isn't much. Just enjoy it. I will most probably upload the next chapter in about four days.

Thank you again and don't forget to leave a review. They make my day…

Peace out.


	10. Chapter 10

Note - I implore you to read the previous chapter again before proceeding forward just to get into the flow of things.

CHAPTER - 10

The struggle had begun now.

It was not the struggle of wits or brain. It was an age old struggle, when stemmed from the advent of man-kind. It was the struggle of brute force. Oliver's against Slade's. He dug his heels on the ground and increased the pressure on both his wrist, trying to keep him fettered. And Slade on the other hand was tugging hard at his arms, trying to yank them out of Oliver's steel grip. He was leaning away from Oliver, using his whole body to pull his arms out. A low, throaty growl erupted from his throat and it shifted in cadence, depending on the amount of force he was applying. His sweat glistened face was trembling with the strain. His brows were furrowed and his eye had thinned to the point where Oliver couldn't see his dark, obsidian eyeball anymore.

The same expressions were mirrored on Oliver's face. His face too was contorted with the strain. And he was leaning away, using his body strength to maintain his hold. Both of them were struggling against one another, trying to get the upper hand. Raw, visceral, untapped energy coursed through their bones and muscles. This intense game of tug of war was reminiscent of the kindergarten for Oliver, where he had gotten into a harsh game of tug of war with another kid over a toy. It had been brutal. And right now they were like two petulant kids fighting over the same toy.

So there they were, in the middle of a huge cavernous hall, struggling against one another. Trying to one up the other. For Oliver, seconds felt like hours as he tried to determine the best possible way to get out of this hold and subdue Slade as efficiently and easily as possible. And Oliver was sure that the same thoughts were running through Slade's mind seeing from the subtle flickering of light in his eye and the tumultuous ridges forming on his brows.

"So are you gonna fight back? Or resort to cheap tricks like a coward?" growled Slade, his voice coming in a strenuous cadence. Oliver could make out the taut veins in his neck and the color deepening in his surly face.

"I am doing whatever I have to do." replied Oliver through gritted teeth.

"They say a coward dies a thousand death. And you are a coward. Not man enough to do the thing that is necessary. You should have killed me when you had the chance kid. Now…I am gonna haunt you." breathed Slade.

"We will see about that, won't we?",said Oliver as he felt his biceps flex and a dull ache burgeoned in his shoulders. He silently thanked all his intensive regimes and work outs he had put himself through. They had helped him build up his core strength.

Amidst their mute, soundless scuffle, a vague, stray but crucial thought entered Oliver's mind. In the heat of the moment and his impulsive fervor, he had tangled and restrained Slade for the time being. Both his hands were occupied, currently trying to keep Slade's wrists from slipping out of his. And while doing so he had left the lower half of his body, that is his gut and legs, unguarded. His hands were busy and his guard was down. And if Slade wanted to he could exploit this chink in his armor.

When he looked up at Slade's face, he realized that Slade too had come to the same conclusion. His wide eyes and raised eyebrows were evidence enough. And before he could do something about it Slade had already set the wheels in motion.

Everything happened very fast. Slade lurched towards him, as though going in for a hug. Then suddenly in the next second he pulled back with all his strength and jumped up into the air. Using Oliver's grip on his hands as leverage, he hovered in the air for about a second before he lashed out at Oliver with both his feet. His feet struck Oliver's gut with blinding speed.

Before Oliver knew it, he was flying back through the air. He hovered in the air for a couple of seconds before he crashed down hard on the concrete floor and skittered back. He was sprawled on his back about eight feet away from where Slade had jump-kicked him. The wind was knocked out of him as the pain spread through his abdomen. It wasn't anything severe although there would be some nasty bruises. Other than that he would live.

He took about four seconds to catch his breathe before he sprung up to a standing position. Eight feet in front of him, Slade was also picking himself up from the floor. Unlike Oliver, he did it slowly, as though he had all the time in the world. Maybe it was true. His prey was already backing into a corner. He could take all the time in the world to finish the job.

Slade stood up, proud and erect like a peacock. Sword still in is hand. And suddenly with renewed vigor he charged at him again with his deadly blade raised. And this time he looked determined to get a piece of him. And so was Oliver. Cheap tricks were bygone. This time around he wasn't going to sit back and take the brunt of the attack. He was going to attack head on. He had to get his head back in the game and play to his strengths. He pulled his bow from where he had hung it on his shoulder; held it tight in his left hand.

Slade was still barreling towards him like a freight train.

So he plunged his hand into his quiver, pulled out an arrow and nocked it. He pulled it back as far as he could, aimed it at the rapidly approaching figure of Slade and let go. The arrow darted forward like a bullet, plowing through the air as it made it's way towards Slade. But Slade hardly faltered in his steps. With practiced, fluidic twirl of his sword he parried the arrow away. And continued charging undeterred.

Oliver gritted his teeth. He hadn't expected it to work. He was only just testing the waters. If he wanted to stop Slade, he had to up his efforts. So he nocked another arrow and aimed it at his feet. But before he could release it something else in the background caught his eye.

Something glinted in the air behind Slade. He couldn't discern what it was in an instant because he had other things to worry about, like the hulking figure of Slade Wilson barreling towards him brandishing a sword. But what ever it was, he was sure that it was metallic because of the way it glinted. The feeble light made the object shimmer as it would a coin. And another thing that he noticed was that the object was gliding through the air and making it's way towards him. He squinted harder, trying to determine what it was. The darkness and the dim light was making it harder to do so. Slade was now about six feet away. The recurrent crump of his boots were in synchrony with his incessant heart beat - rapid and forceful.

Oliver held his position - bow upright with an arrow pulled back. The flying object glided effortlessly, without any resistance. It arched further towards the left making a semi-circle before heading his way. And when it was about five feet away, he realized what it was with a start. His heart jumped up into his mouth.

It was a boomerang. One of Harkness's to be precise.

And it was aimed at his head.

He was in a fix. And all of this was happening in a matter of seconds. Slade was now about five feet away and the boomerang three. What should he do? Whom should he shoot first? The answer to these questions were pretty obvious. Any person would shoot the one which would kill him faster in the hope of living a little longer.

So Oliver did just that.

The boomerang was now two feet away. It looked lean and powerful. The whirring sound emanating from it made his skin prickle. Oliver moved his bow towards his left, aimed at it and released his arrow.

The arrow zipped through the air like thunder and struck the boomerang.

And Oliver realized his mistake just then. The moment the arrow struck the boomerang, it exploded; two feet away from Oliver's face.

Shit! It was an explosive boomerang, cursed Oliver.

He should have been paying more attention.

The explosion was huge, deafening and blinding. It rattled the hall and the windows. It momentarily brightened up the entire place, sending the darkness and the shadows cowering away. The licking flames sent ripples of heat across the room. The explosion took place very close to Oliver and he didn't even have time to shield his face. The glare from the blast disoriented his sight, blinding him temporarily. A sharp ringing noise overwhelmed his ear. A putrid stench of scorched air assaulted his nose as he felt a burning sensation on his face and sharp pain above his right eye as though someone had pricked his skin with a needle.

He experienced all of this at once and the thought of Slade galloping towards him to slice him into mince meat slipped out of his mind. The force from the explosion threw him clear. It flung him like a rag doll towards his right. It was a very powerful explosion. Oliver flew through the air for what felt like hours to him but it was only for mere seconds. Then he collided with a wall, hard and slumped onto the ground and remained still.

After catching his breathe for a few seconds, he gingerly lifted his head and perched up on his elbow. A tenuous groan escaped his lips. His back was sore and bruising. His head was hurting. And moreover he couldn't see. The glare had disoriented his vision. Everything was blotchy and blurry. The sharp ringing still persisted in his ears. He lifted his head further, trying to push himself to an upright position, and felt something warm and sticky trickle down his forehead into his eye. He knew it was blood. He lifted his head to inspect the depth of the cut above his eye. As soon as his finger made contact with the wound, he hissed in pain. It wasn't deep but the gash was long and there was a chance that the blood trickling down would cloud his vision. Must have been a shrapnel which got him. He deftly wiped the blood and pushed himself off the ground. Slowly and carefully.

And before he knew it, something hit him hard on the chest and he was back on the ground with a grunt. He couldn't see who it was or what it was. He looked up and could make out a blurry silhouette hovering over him. He knew that it was Slade by the frantic way he was moving over him. He seemed to be in a frenzy as he kicked Oliver in the gut incessantly. As hard as he could. And he seemed to be screaming or shouting at him frantically because of the sudden bursts of noise that would occasionally make it's way past the sharp ringing. It was like trying to tune a radio, trying to cancel out all the noise and tune into a station.

And Slade kicked him in the gut and chest relentlessly. It was almost cathartic for him. Lashing out mercilessly at the man who took away the only thing he ever cared about. He kicked and kicked. Left and right. His rhythm hardly faltering, if anything it was only increasing. Rationality on his part was overwhelmed by his single minded anger and determination. Raw, brute strength coursed through his legs as he channeled everything he had behind every kick he landed. Every kick was a statement, a brand that would make Oliver feel sorry for the hurt he had caused him.

And down on the ground, Oliver was pinned. He had nowhere to go. His sight and hearing were on the fritz and he couldn't do anything about the endless barrage of attack. It was like trying to fight in the dark, not knowing where the attack was going to come from. But he endured the pounding. He groaned and grunted loudly as each kick landed against his ribs and gut. He coughed and spluttered as the pain spread from his ribs and solar plexus across his whole body. So he did the only thing he could to soften the blows. He curled into a ball, bringing his knees and elbows up in front of his chest and stomach.

But that didn't deter Slade in any way. He kept on pounding recurrently. And in between the endless barrage of assault, Oliver felt his sight and hearing return, slowly but surely. The patches of glaring bright lights were slowly residing. The sharp ringing noise in his ear was waning thus making Slade's screams sound more coherent.

" - killed. Shado. You. Are. Gonna. Pay. In. Blood."

Slade drove home every word with each kick he landed.

Now that Oliver's sight and hearing were back, he could make better sense of the situation. The imposing figure of Slade Wilson hovering over him was trying his hardest to break every bone in his body. And Oliver was taking too much damage. His hands and knees were pretty sore. There was only so much more he could take.

He had to act now.

And he did.

He waited for the right moment, peeking from the gap between his arms. The moment Slade's right leg came swinging towards him and he caught hold of the incoming leg by it's boot. This caught Slade by surprise, breaking his rhythm. Then Oliver pulled out a flechette with his left hand and plunged it into his shin. He felt the bone give way as the tiny arrowhead buried itself in his leg.

Slade howled in pain, like an injured animal and leaped back holding up his right leg. He was hopping on his left leg, trying to yank the flechette out. But Oliver didn't stop there. Ignoring the throbbing pain pounding across his body, he pushed his upper body up using both his hands, swiveled hard and swept Slade's feet out from under him.

With a yelp Slade slammed down on the floor. His head snapped back and hit the floor hard. And before he could move even an inch, Oliver was up on his feet. Now he had the upper hand. Slade was down on the ground, rolling about awkwardly. He was pinned down. He had to strike now and take him out.

Oliver thrust his hand into his quiver and pulled out an arrow. He didn't bother using his bow anymore. In fact he didn't know where his bow had fallen. He held the arrow in his hand and briskly moved forward to plunge it into Slade. He was about to do it - body angled forward, the arrow raised above his head, ready to be plunged into Slade.

When in a matter of second, out of nowhere an arrow flew through the air and impaled itself into Oliver's left shoulder.

Oliver staggered back several steps. A gut wrenching, mind numbing, torturous pain tore through his shoulder. He shrieked out involuntarily, an inhuman cry escaped his lips. All rational thoughts fled from his mind as the pain took over. It was like someone was stripped him bare and plunged him into ice cold water. His mind was in shock and his body was on fire. He couldn't think straight. The only thought that sprung to the forefront of his mind was the need to rid himself of this burning pain. And fast. His feet buckled under him and he fell to his knees.

He had to control the pain and move forward if he wanted to get out of here alive. He was already on the back foot. Outmatched, outnumbered and outgunned. He had to pull up his sock.

He had to pull the arrow out of his shoulder. He took deep, heavy breathes to calm his nerves as best as he could and through gritted teeth he, slowly and carefully, yanked the arrow out. He yelped in pain again as the arrow head aggravated his entry wound. He swore under the heavy huffing and puffing. Warm, thick blood oozed out profusely from the wound and trickled down his back. His suit was matted to his back. He tried to move his left arm, but couldn't, not without triggering the sharp pain. Moving his arm would only aggravate the wound further.

As of right now, his left arm was out of commission. He had no idea how he was going to fight against four people with only one hand. Well if push came to shove, then he would have to push himself and slave through the pain.

But first things first. He had to somehow diminish the pain.

He tried controlling his breathing and willed the pain to ebb away. Pain was psychological. Mastering pain was all about mind over body. You could will it to go away and it would. And right now that was what Oliver was trying to do.

His heavy breathing subsided and became more focussed and the sharp, throbbing pain waned slightly, enough to let him think rationally. He looked to his right and saw Slade pushing himself off the ground. He had managed to pull the flechette out of his leg and was now holding it in his balled fist.

And without a second thought Oliver bolted towards him and slammed his foot hard on Slade's forehead. With a grunt he collapsed back on the ground. It wasn't enough to knock him out cold or cause some kind of severe damage but was enough to slow him down for a bit. He just had to get his head and some thoughts straight before he plowed onwards with this fight.

Down here, on the ground he was taking too many hits. He had not been able to touch them let alone harm them and in the meantime he had already lost the use of his left arm. He had expected the others to abide by the order that Slade had given. But they had not. They had attacked him in spite of that. And that wasn't something he had accounted for. There in lay his mistake. He had been banking on Slade's command to keep the other's from interfering. He had momentarily narrowed his way of thinking. Something which did not happen often. And he was paying for it right now.

He wasn't safe here, out in the open. He had to disappear. Vanish, like a ghost and take them out one at a time. Engaging them all at once was foolish. Expect Slade all of the others had long range weapons which could cause him serious damage, more serious than it already was.

Slade was still groaning on the ground.

And he had to disappear. It was time to employ some theatrics.

He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out three smoke pellets. Courtesy of the Applied Sciences Division of Queen Consolidated which didn't exist anymore. He smashed one of the pellets at his feet. With a sharp hiss, thick, dense smoke billowed out of it. Then he kept his left arm as steady as possible and sprinted across the hall towards the three racks kept adjacent to each other. At least they would give him some kind of high ground to hide and scope out his targets.

As he sprinted, out of the corner of his eye he caught bright flashes of light and heard short loud cracks. It had to be Lawton. He was shooting at him. And missing apparently. But Oliver didn't turn around and look. He sprinted like his life depended on it. And on his way to the rack, he smashed the remaining pellets on the ground.

Then he slipped in between the racks and disappeared into the darkness.

He looked behind him to see if anyone had followed him. No one had. He could make out the smoke which was rising, through the crack in between the racks.

Tucking his left hand safety against his stomach he climbed up the rack laboriously. There were three racks kept adjacent to each other. Each rack was about twelve feet high. The shelves of the rack which once held sacks full of cement, lime and grit were now empty. If he crouched on the top then no one would be able to see him from down there. He would be safe there.

Once he was up on the top he surveyed the room. It was like watching down from above on a cloud infested sky. The smoke swelled, swirled, eddied and engulfed the whole room. A special brand of smoke was used for this. It was a long lasting one, which tended to remain suspended in the air for approximately ten minutes. It was more thick and denser than natural smoke. It was going to keep him shrouded and help him take them down stealthily.

But before he did that, he had to inspect his own injuries. He had a cut above his eye which was bleeding, the upper half of his body was sore from all the hits he had taken from Slade. Then there was the one which was the worst of all. The one on his shoulder. There was a gaping wound on his shoulder which was bleeding profusely. He had to do something to stop the bleeding other wise he would bleed to death. He ran his right hand over the wound softly and winced. The dull throbbing took hold again. The front of his outfit was scorched from the blast. There were singe marks on his chest.

He crawled to the edge of the rack and squatted. He looked down over the edge and his sight met with only swirling smoke. He couldn't see anyone. He could only hear the light scuff of boots and occasionally, rapid sprinting.

"Where the hell did he bugger off to?" came Harkness's scratchy voice from somewhere in the middle of the hall. He too like the others was veiled by the smoke.

Then came Slade's voice somewhere from the other end of the hall.

"You think you can hide from me! You can't hide forever. I am gonna find you and when I do, I am gonna break every bone in your sorry body." he bellowed.

The smoke was still rising like a mushroom cloud. Slowly swirling up to meet the ceiling of the hall. He could hear their footsteps. Some frantic, some careful and some rapid. Down there they were all trying to scour every inch of the hall trying to find him. And when one of them came close to this rack on which he was perched he would take them out.

"Hey you….girl! Move your arse and look between those racks. He might be hiding in there." slurred Harkness. His tone could be construed as a slander aimed at Carrie's feminine sensibility.

"Talk to me like that again asshole and I am gonna break that glass jaw of yours. You will be eating your meals through a straw." shot back Carrie angrily.

Someone sniggered at that.

Oliver waited patiently. He felt a sliver of exhaustion take ahold of him. The adrenaline rush was receding leaving behind a trail of weariness and fatigue. Droplets of sweat and blood dripped from his forehead onto the steel surface of the rack. His shoulder was still throbbing albeit in subdued intensity. It wasn't hindering him from thinking straight as it had initially. But it was just sitting there uncomfortably in the back of his mind and nagging at him ceaselessly.

Then he heard a footstep approaching.

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Author's Note - As usual I would like to thank everyone for reading this story. And thank you for all the follows, favorites and the reviews.

Firstly I would like to offer my sincere condolence to all those bright and brave souls who lost their lives in that outrageous and appalling terrorist attack in France. And secondly I would like to extend my solidarity to all the French people. In times like this we must all stick together. Even on the darkest night you guys shone the brightest. Our thoughts are with you. Always.

Now…coming back to the chapter, the first thing that I would like to say is "PHEW". This chapter was the toughest I have ever written and I have completed it in five days. Another thing about this chapter is that it is longer than I anticipated so I have divided it. This is the first half and the next half I am gonna upload in about an hour or two.

I hope you like it.

And don't forget to drop reviews.

Peace out.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER - 11

He peeked down. The staccato was soft and smooth. Whoever was approaching was taking extra care to be conspicuous, presumably moving on tip toes. Then suddenly Carrie materialized out of the smoke. She was indeed moving on tip toes, her shoulders hunched. Her head swerved left and right, checking to see if he wasn't hiding behind the racks. Her unfettered burgundy hair swept left and right like a piece of cloth caught in a sudden gust of wind. She moved deeper into the darkness between the racks trying to find him.

This was his chance. She was isolated from the herd. She was on her lonesome. If he landed behind her and hit her then he could take her by surprise and render her unconscious with three or four hits. After all she was the one who had decommissioned his left arm. It was incumbent on his part to take her out first.

So swiftly making up his mind he turned to his right and jumped down from the edge of the rack. He landed on his toes softly. His right hand shot out and took hold of the shelf to his right for support. It was a perfect landing. It had not alerted Carrie. He had landed about six feet behind Carrie. She had moved beyond the racks and reached the stairwell that led to the upper levels of the warehouse. Her back was turned towards him. He crouched and moved towards her, carefully, so as not to alert her by the crump of his boots.

When he was three feet away from her, he lifted himself to his full height and pounced on her. Like a cheetah. He bolted through the air and tackled her from behind. Impetuously, he brought his right hand around and clamped it on her mouth to prevent her from screaming out and alerting the others. They landed on the ground with a muffled thud. She was sandwiched between him and the ground. A soft _'umph'_ escaped his lips as he felt his shoulder collide with the ground, grazing further against the wound. The throbbing returned with a bang and he was almost paralyzed by the pain. But he fought it. Through gritted teeth he willed the pain to go away. Pushing it to the back of his mind, he slaved through it. In a flash, he flipped her around and straddled her. He kept his hand firmly clamped on her mouth, squeezing her cheeks hard to keep her from biting his fingers off.

Her eyes were wide with terror and he could see raw fear swirling in the depths of her eyeball. Yes, that was what he wanted to incur in his enemies. Fear. He deftly switched his hands, freeing his right hand from her mouth and clamping it shut with his left. He used his injured arm because he had decided that if he wanted to make it out of here alive he needed to use both his arms, even if one was critically injured.

Both her hands were free and before she could do anything, Oliver pulled his right hand back as far as he could and slammed the heel into her left shoulder, hard and fast. With a sickening crunch her arm dislocated from her shoulder. Oliver felt a sick sense of satisfaction wash over him. Good, he thought, an eye for an eye. She wouldn't be able to shoot an arrow for a very long time. Her face contorted and her eyes convulsed with pain and agony. He could feel her muffled scream against his hand. She was writhing and thrashing underneath him.

Now it was time to put her out of her misery. Keeping one hand pressed on her mouth, he took hold of her head by her wild unruly hair and slammed it repeatedly on the ground. Once. Twice. Thrice. Four times. And then he struck her across the jaw with her elbow, thus rendering her unconscious. She stilled under him, no longer thrashing and squirming.

He swept the sweat off his brow and heaved a sigh a relief. One down. Three more to go. The pain in his shoulder had subsided and dimmed into the background. He brought his finger to her pulse and found it beating steadily. So he lifted himself gingerly off the ground, dragged her body and dumped it under the stairwell. He would be able to corner anyone who came looking for her.

He again climbed up the rack and waited for someone to come looking for her. And in the meantime he tried to catch his breathe. He was counting on Harkness to come looking. Harkness he could handle. Slade and Lawton were on another level altogether. He would have to deal with them later.

On the ground the smoke was slowly starting to recede as it became thinner and vanished into wisps.

Come on, come on, he implored, Harkness come here.

The smoke would clear in about three to four minutes, then he would have a hard time salvaging this plan of his. If in the next thirty seconds no one came this way then he would have to abandon this stealthy approach and embrace the direct one. And then -

"Hey….where did the girl go?" came Slade's husky voice from amidst the smoke.

"Dunno. Maybe she got lost." replied Harkness.

"Do you think he escaped?" asked Lawton.

"Not likely.", replied Slade with certainty. "He could never walk away from a direct challenge. One of his fatal flaws.."

Oliver gritted his teeth on hearing this. He could never walk away from any kind of challenge. He was just obstinate that way and it had on many occasions, if not always, proven to be fatal for him. Slade just knew him too well.

"Lawton….go and check what happened to the girl. And if you find him do not kill him….drag him out here. He is mine." growled Slade.

"And Harkness….check in between those racks. Drag him out if you find him….I am gonna look over there by those desks." said Slade.

The hall quietened again and was immediately adorned by the loud thumps of boots coming his way. Lawton approached first, cautioning restrained as the machine guns straddling his wrists were pointed at the darkness in front of him. His head skittered left and right as he made his way past the racks and into the area where he hid Carrie. Well it would at least take him four to five minutes to find her body in the dark.

Oliver shifted his attention towards Harkness, who hadn't moved an inch from the edge of the point from where the racks began. He was just standing there twiddling with the lapels of his jackets and was peering in between the racks. His posture seemed skittish to him but he couldn't say for sure because his face was hidden in the darkness. Then he made an about turn and moved further into the open space where the bulk of the smoke had been.

Now Oliver had to make a decision. He was in a conundrum. There were three guys left. One one corner of the hall, beyond the racks was Lawton who was searching for Carrie. It would be more suitable for him to deal with Lawton first then move to the others. But Oliver was wary of the machine guns on his wrist. They were very useful weapons. They could be used both for long range and short range attacks. He had to leave Lawton for later.

On the opposite corner of the hall, masked in the now vanishing smoke, was Slade. Of the three of them, Slade was the most skillful when it came to close combat. Oliver had watched him engage six people at once and win. He had to trudge carefully on that particular egg shell.

And then in the middle was Harkness, whose only skill was flinging boomerangs with the same accuracy as his. He wasn't as skilled as the other two in hand to hand combat. Out of the three, Harkness was the most viable target for him in the current situation.

Harkness's back was turned towards him. He could initiate another sneak attack on him, like he had on Carrie. Slade was on the corner of the hall, hidden in the smoke and Lawton was on the opposite side beyond the racks. And the smoke was about to clear in about two minutes. So he had about forty second to take out Harkness and return back up here without being seen.

So Oliver jumped down as quietly as possible and moved towards him from behind, as stealthily as possible. But as soon as he was three feet behind him, Harkness turned around rapidly and came face to face with him.

Shit! He must have heard me, cursed Oliver.

But before Harkness could do something Oliver did the first thing that jumped to his mind. He dropped to the ground immediately and swept his feet from under him. He had been surprised by Oliver's sudden appearance behind him. It was evident by the widening of his eyes and his jumping brows. And Oliver had already set the wheel in motion before he could attack him. So with a yelp he went down on the ground with his arms and legs flailing awkwardly in the air.

He immediately tried to scamper back to his feet but Oliver slammed his foot down on his knee, hard. He yelled in pain again and clutched his knee desperately. He couldn't move. Oliver had struck him hard in a spot just above his knee which would cause him considerable amount of pain if he tried to move that leg. Harkness's eyes narrowed in loathe and detest.

Then he did something that Oliver hadn't accounted for. He yelled out for help.

"Hey-" his voice rang clear across the space like a church bell.

But Oliver didn't give him a chance. Before he could finish his cry for help Oliver pounced on him. He landed with his knees on his stomach. Harkness doubled over in pain, his eyes bulged out like that of a frog's. Then Oliver punched him hard on his throat. He coughed and spluttered in pain. He tried to shout again, but couldn't. Oliver had just fractured his larynx. He wouldn't be able to speak for sometime. It was a nifty little trick he had learned a long time ago and it had come in handy. Now Harkness could only croak.

Oliver clenched his fist and aimed another punch, this time at his jaw. But Harkness moved his head toward his right at the last moment and his knuckles hit the concrete floor. He gritted his teeth at the pain which sparked in his hand. Then before he could do anything about it, Harkness produced a metallic boomerang from within his coat. It was a handsome thing, about twelve inch long from tip to tip. It shone brilliantly under the dull light. Another thing he noticed was that the tip of the wings were sharp like that of a blade.

Harkness was pinned to the ground. He couldn't walk nor could he speak. His end was inevitable. And he would do anything to delay the inevitable. So before Oliver could bring up his guard, Harkness slashed at his upper body hard with the boomerang. The sharp tip cut through his costume and plunged into his chest. It sliced open his body from the chest, across the gut, in a thin line which ended at his right hip. The cut wasn't deep but it was long. Oliver gasped in pain and shock as he felt the pain disperse across his body. His chest was on fire. His mind went blank with shock. The boomerang had also cut off the straps of his quiver from his chest, which slumped on the ground with a clank and the arrows spilled out.

He fell back on the ground breathing heavily. He brought his hand up to inspect the damage. There was a thin slit on his costume running from his collarbone to his right hip. And there was blood percolating from the gash into his costume and dripping on the floor.

And suddenly Oliver went into an irate state. He didn't know where the anger came from, but the shock that his mind was in and the contempt he felt at himself for not being able to block the attack, convoluted and warped into a red hot mass of anger which left him seething. The monster inside him was back and it was angry. It wanted blood.

The anger took ahold of him. Through narrowed eyes he looked at Harkness. He was still on the ground, barely able to speak or move. He was still brandishing his boomerang like a flag, ready to lash at him should he come anywhere near him again.

Harkness lifted his head and Oliver got a good glimpse at his face. It wasn't contorted with pain any more. There was a thin smirk on his face and a gleam of pleasure in his eyes, for having stabbed him. And that was it for Oliver. That was the limit. Seeing that sadistic pleasure swirling in his eyes turned off all rationality in Oliver. His mind was stressed to the of breaking down and now the threshold had been crossed. He saw red. Now Oliver wanted to hurt him really, really bad. And he didn't care if he killed him.

So without further thought, Oliver leapt onto Harkness again, like a hungry, savage dog. He punched Harkness hard in his gut, feeling his taut muscles give way. And then Harkness again slashed at him with the boomerang. But this time Oliver was ready. He swerved out of the way as the boomerang slashed past him. Using both his hands he caught hold of his wrist and wrapped both his leg around the arm and pinned it to the floor. He had got him in a submission hold. His leg was jammed in his shoulder. If he twisted his arm around he could break it. And he wanted to do it. So very badly.

He looked at Harkness for the last time. He was struggling against him. He couldn't move. If he pushed or pulled against the force which Oliver was applying then he would unconsciously break his own arm. His face was contorted into a snarl. He was breathing heavily now. His eyes and jaw were trembling with the pain coursing through his shoulder. Oliver could see tears welling up in his eyes. The agony must be immense. And now Oliver felt a sense of barbarous pleasure. A pleasure at holding so much power over a man. It was addictive.

Harkness was wordlessly begging him not to do it. But it was only egging him more. And then contorting his face he mercilessly twisted his hand and snapped the bone with a crunch.

Harkness went crazy with the pain. If he would have had his voice he would have released an inhuman blood curdling scream. He was writhing and thrashing about in agony. The pain was killing him but Oliver didn't bother to do anything about it. Without even a sliver of remorse at his abhorrent act, he got up to his feet. He looked at the man on the ground. He was still twisting and wriggling with agony, and his arm was lying at an impossible angle beside him, the boomerang a couple of inches away from his outstretched fingers.

His work here was done. He had to get up back to his vantage spot.

He was about to move towards the rack when he heard a commotion and loud thumping behind him. As soon as he turned around to look what it was ,he was swept off his feet. The wind was knocked out of him, leaving him gasping for air. He was being carried back at a blistering pace. It took his mind some time to determine what was happening to him.

It was Slade. He had just pounced on Oliver. He must have heard their scuffle. He was bent down like a bull and his arm was around Oliver's waist. He was carrying him partially on his shoulder. Oliver was in Slade's hold for about four seconds before he was slammed hard against a wall. His head snapped back, hit the wall and started ringing. The remaining breathe shoved out of his body with a grunt on collision. He was gasping hard for air. A tumultuous wave of pain rocked his back as it spread from his injured shoulder down to the small bone on his lower back. He doubled over and tried hard to catch his breathe.

But Slade had other plans. He didn't let him catch a break. He lunged at him again and aimed a right hook across his jaw. Oliver's head snapped to the right. He coughed, spluttered and spit out blood. His hands immediately and instinctively went up to protect his face. And this time Slade didn't go for the face, but rather his exposed gut.

Slade punched him hard and fast. In his gut and ribs. Jab after jab. Left and right. There was no stopping him. He was like a well oiled machine. He put his whole body behind every punch he landed on his already battered body. And when Oliver would bring his hands down to block the punches, Slade would go for his face. Left hook and right hook across his jaws. It sent his head reeling and disoriented his vision. And the pain spreading across his face was so colossal that he couldn't feel the punches which landed on any other parts of his body.

All in all, Oliver was pinned against the wall like a rat being cornered by a cat. There was nothing he could do to get out of there. Exhaustion was setting in. There was only so much his worn out body could take. He closed his eyes and brought his hands up and bent down to soften the landing blows.

And when Slade realized that his blows weren't having the effect that he intended, he grabbed him by his tattered costume. Then taking a wide stride he planted his left foot on the ground, with a labored grunt lifted Oliver over his shoulder and tossed his like a rag doll as far as he could. Oliver weighed about one eighty pounds, so Slade couldn't toss him much far. Only about eight feet, which was an impressive feat in itself.

Oliver slammed hard on the concrete and skidded onwards for a couple of seconds before stopping. Pain and pain. Every where. There was fire all over his body. Like someone had dropped him on a pit of hot lava. Everything was numb. His body wasn't responding to him anymore. Slowly but painfully he pushed himself up on his hands and knees and spit out some blood.

"It's over kid. Your time is up. You can't hide like a coward anymore. You have failed everyone." said Slade and he bolted towards him and kneed him hard on his face.

And this broke Oliver's nose.

Oliver cried out wordlessly and tumbled back. There wasn't any energy left in him. His head was reeling and mind was blank. He closed his eyes as he tried to find refuge from the sudden rise and fall of the pricking pangs. His eyes welled up in tear as he felt few drops trickle down the side of his face. He couldn't do it any more. It was too much. He couldn't fight.

"You feel that don't you….the pain. Yes…I can see it in your face. Do you know how happy it makes me to see you like this? Suffering. This is your penance. This is retribution. You want it to end…Don't fight it. Just embrace it."

Then amidst all this crisis, Oliver had an epiphany. A coherent and lucid thought rang like a crisp bell across his pain muddled mind. He was gonna die. Right here. Right now. He was going to die in this musty old run of the mill warehouse, like a cockroach. All the trials, all the troubles and all the pain he had gone through had been for nothing. All the years of his life that he had dedicated to do the right thing had been for nothing. Every thing had been a waste.

His body had already accepted defeat but his mind wasn't ready to. Not yet at least. He was Oliver Queen for god's sake. He had survived the island and countless number of monsters and maniacs there and returned home. He had fought hard and saved his city not once but twice. He had defeated Malcolm Merlyn. He had defeated Slade twice. He had survived Ra's Al Ghul's sword and became stronger for it. He had jumped from one crucible to another like a bee jumps flowers, and come out of the other end victorious.

He wasn't a coward. He was a hero. He wasn't just going to give up and accept his defeat. He was going to fight back till there wasn't any breathe left in his breast. He wasn't going down easy. And even if he was going to die he was going to make sure that he took as many with him as possible, starting with Slade.

Letting this thought embolden his spirit, he pushed the pain to the back of his mind. Slowly and painstakingly, he pushed himself off the floor. First on his hands and knees and then on his feet. He was breathing heavily with his mouth. Breathing through the nose was painful. He wobbled and staggered at first but then steadied himself. Then he met Slade's eyes.

And Slade found this amusing.

"Ah…I was wondering which would break first….your spirit or your body."

Oliver steeled himself. He spread his legs and grounded his feet. Bend down and fists up. He held a flechette in his left hand. He gestured wordlessly at Slade to come at him with everything he had.

Slade smirked at this but nonetheless hurtled towards him.

He led with a right hook across his jaw, which Oliver dodged easily. He moved his head to the left as he watched his arm dart passed his face. Swiftly and with conviction, Oliver caught hold of his wrist and stabbed at his arm with the flechette twice. Slade yelped in pain and jumped back.

He growled and glared at Oliver. And lunged at him again. This time he dived forward intending to elbow him on his temple, but Oliver saw it coming and ducked to evade it. Then he punched him hard in his gut twice. Left and right. Slade stumbled back, clutching his gut. He barred his teeth at him and then unleashed a whole barrage of assaults. One punch here, one kick there. Left, right, up, down. Oliver dodged, ducked and weaved around the assaults. One caught him on his bad shoulder and it sparked the pain again, but he shook it off and slaved forward.

Slade's right leg was coming his way with blinding pace. He brought his left hand up at the right time and blocked it. And before Slade could put down his foot, he plunged the flechette twice into his leg, just above his knee. Slade gasped and stumbled back.

Suddenly Oliver felt a sense of warmth envelop him. His confidence was returning back to him with a vengeance. He could do it. He could beat Slade and escape from here. Slade's conviction was slipping. He could see his confidence waning. This in return compounded his confidence.

And now Oliver did not wait for Slade to come to him. With renewed strength, belief and fervor, he leapt at Slade. Taking skipping strides like that of a boxer, he first feigned to the right, inciting Slade to bring up his defense. And then at the last moment changed direction and jabbed hard at his right abdomen. Then without breaking the flow, he swing his foot hard at Slade leg, buckling it under him. Adjusting his footsteps gracefully, he finished the move with an uppercut aimed at his jaw.

Perfect.

By the time he was finished Slade was sprawled on the ground, flat on his back.

But he didn't remain there for long. He sprung up to his feet and came at Oliver again.

Oliver took a step back and strengthened his core. Slade swung his feet at him, in an upward arc. Oliver held both his palm open and blocked the kick. Then Slade threw a punch at his jaw which he parried away with a flick of his hand. Taking a wide stride and jumping to gain potential energy, he struck Slade square across the jaw, which sent him reeling back.

Slade coughed, spluttered and spit out blood. Moots of his spit clung to his hirsute chin. And he cracked a smile at him.

"Oh that was good kid. Real good. I have taught you well…..But if you think even for a second, that you can defeat me….then you are sorely mistaken. I will kill you. I will snuff out your life with my bare hands when I wring your THROAT."

Then he lunged at Oliver's throat.

This was too easy for him. Slade was loosing it. His emotions were clouding his judgement, and that would eventually be his downfall. He felt a strange sense of elation leap into his heart.

And with a soft smirk of his own he leapt into action.

Oliver swerved out of the way of the lunging Slade. He caught hold of Slade's right hand and elbowed him hard on his arm. That was going to leave a nasty bruise. Then he punched him hard in his ribs under the arm pit. Slade wobbled back. And that was when Oliver saw a rare opening in his defense. So like a lion aiming for the jugular, he leapt at Slade and wrapped his right arm around his throat and locked it up with his left hand.

Finally, he had Slade in a submission hold. A slight pressure and he could snap Slade neck. And Slade couldn't do anything about it. He could feel Slade twisting, wriggling and squirming against him. As a result he tightened his grip around his neck. Slade punched and clawed incessantly against his arm and face. Oliver leaned his head back to avoid his assaults.

"Yield, yield." Oliver commanded through gritted teeth. His voice came out hoarse and was laced with exhaustion.

"Never…." croaked Slade. Oliver could feel his throat convulsion and Adam's apple bobbing against his arm.

He tightened his hold further, as the strain spiked in his shoulder.

"…but I am warning you. If you don't kill me now….I will come after you again. I will not rest until I have your head." warned Slade.

Oliver head got hotter at this. Slade couldn't stop threatening even moments before his supposed death. Maybe he should just kill him. It seemed so easy. All he would have to do was twist his arm and his neck would snap.

Slade wouldn't remain quiet. He writhed and thrashed around, jabbing him at his side with his elbow. This only strengthened his resolve and his grip got tighter. Maybe he should just snap it.

Suddenly, three things happened over a span of two seconds. Oliver heard three loud and clear cracks behind him. Then his back split open and he collapsed on the ground like a sack of potato.

Someone had just shot him.

It was Lawton. He stood tall and proud, his mannerisms as cool as a cucumber. His left arm was raised and pointed at where Oliver was standing a couple of seconds ago. Smoke was billowing from the muzzle of the gun straddling his wrist.

"That was easy.", he intoned at Slade. "What was taking you so long?"

Oliver had forgotten all about Lawton. Now he was sprawled on the ground with two bullets lodged on his back and the other had grazed past his neck. He screamed out loud in agony. His voice broke with the pain and it sounded alien to him. His back was on fire. Like someone had just plunged a red hot rod into his back. He squirmed and writhed against the pain, willing for it to stop. His back was numb with the torrential wave of pain lashing through it. He couldn't fight it anymore. Tears welled up in his eyes and trickled down his face. He wanted the pain to stop. Stop. STOP.

Slade huffed and puffed and then stood up, his breathing still heavy. He regarded the squirming body of Oliver with disgust and then fixed his glare at Lawton.

"Where's the girl?" he asked.

"She is Ok. Her arm was dislocated from her shoulder but I fixed it. She should be coming around any moment." replied Lawton.

"Good….set up the explosives. And set the timer for about ten minutes. We will clear out in five.…"

Lawton gave him a curt nod and went away.

Slade moved towards the broken body of Oliver and kicked him hard and flipped him over.

He leaned down close to Oliver.

"Well kid…you fought like a coward and now you are gonna die like a coward." breathed Slade.

He then clutched Oliver's costume and ripped the hood out clean with one pull.

"And …you don't deserve to wear this. You think you honor her by wearing this. You don't. You have only dredged her name through the mud. Now you won't be wearing this. You will be dead in a few moments now…lets see how many people honor you then…..Huh?"

Oliver gasped and trembled. He couldn't breath, no matter how hard he tried then couldn't inhale. He was like a fish out of water, no matter how hard he gasped for breathe, he couldn't breath. He couldn't feel anything accept the pain. He was at it's mercy.

Gingerly he lifted his left hand and clasped it on Slade's shoulder. He had to breathe. He needed to get up.

But Slade had other plans, he gripped his outstretched arm and caressed it softly.

"Oh no….you aren't getting up anymore. And you, most certainly, aren't shooting any more arrows."

And with that, he wrapped his legs around Oliver's outstretched arm, twisted and mercilessly snapped his bone.

"That's for taking my eye." he spit out.

Oliver opened his mouth and a savagery, inhuman cry escaped his throat. The scream would make anyone's blood curdle. He screamed and screamed his heart out and at some point his voice stopped working. His whole body was riding a turbulent wave of pain. And he wanted it to end. He wanted the pain to end. He wanted to die. He could only take to much.

Please…please….Oh God…please let me die, his consciousness sang.

He gasped and coughed, spurting blood out. He couldn't breath and he couldn't see. The pain was overwhelming him. He had accepted defeat. He couldn't fight it. He didn't want to fight it. He wanted peace and quiet. He wanted to be embraced by the warmth. His vision started blurring and dark patches started forming. His consciousness was slipping.

Lawton returned, "The explosives are set. We should move."

"Yeah,…start the timer."

Lawton pressed a button on the detonator and the timer started. Soft beeping echoed and reverberated across the hall.

"He isn't dead." stated Lawton looking down at the broken and battered body lying near their feet. "I thought you wanted him dead. Don't you wanna kill him?"

Slade sighed, "No…my work here is done. And I want him to feel the heat before his death. Maybe that will purge him off his sins."

And then he spit on Oliver's body. "He deserves it."

Saying that all three of them, with the forth being carried by Lawton, sauntered out of the hall. After few seconds later their footsteps faded into the veil of darkness.

Then it was only Oliver left with his thoughts. He couldn't breath anymore. He couldn't see nor could he feel. He wanted everything to end. He wanted the world to stop spinning. He wanted someone to stop the pain for him. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist. His broken arm lay beside him at an awkward angle. The pain spiked taking him to a soaring height. He arched his body upwards with the pain. He was riding the tumultuous waves of pain, the crests and the troughs. He was at the apex now as the pain shook his body. The pain would end. It would end. The trough would come and the pain would subside. Soon.

Suddenly he felt was sorry for all the sins that he committed. All the people that he killed. He would take everything back if he could. But most of all he was sorry that he wouldn't be able to see his sister any more. Or Laurel. Or Felicity. Or Diggle. Or Roy. All the people that had been there with him thought the thick and thin. Would they all weep for him?

Then the pain lessened and his heart filled with emotions, a soft smile adorned his face. It was so overwhelming. It clenched his heart. This was it. He was crossing over to the other side. His consciousness was slipping and he was fading. But most of all he was happy. He would get to see his mom and dad and Tommy. He would apologize and tell them how sorry he was that he could save them. And then he would be happy with them. At last.

His body slowly exhaled the pain out. It was going to be all right, he thought. Everything was going to be okay.

An eerie silence had descended in the hall. The temperature had dropped, exuding the same chilliness of a soft, limpid winter evening. The sun was down. The day was over. Twilight had set in as the soft wind blew across the country. Night was encroaching upon them, marking the culmination of a life. And then the day would break again with the cry of a new born life. So beautiful. Life. The beginning. So much more beautiful than the end.

The heaving of his chest lessened and his breathes were getting less labored now. He was sleepy and tired. He wanted to sleep.

And then the beeping timer of the explosives slowly lulled Oliver into oblivion. Even he wasn't aware when the end whisked him away.

Right there, in the middle of that dingy and musty, old warehouse, lying under the glare of the dull light, broken and battered, Oliver Queen took his last breathe.

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Author's note - As usual I would like to thank everyone for reading this story. And thank you for all the follows, favorites and the reviews.

Now please don't kill me after reading this. Writing this was quite depressing. I hope I got the emotions right. The story is almost 200 pages now and I haven't even introduced Ra's yet. Please don't stop reading after this chapter. Oliver is gonna come back but how? That I am holding close to my chest. This is only halfway. The rest of the story is gonna be more awesome.

I have uploaded 4 chapters in 20 days. That's a big feat for me. By I will have to cut my writing short because my semester finals starts from Tuesday. So I will be able to upload the next chapter somewhere around early December.

Anyway thank you again for reading my story and I implore you to stick with me to the end.

Please don't forget to drop a review.

Peace out.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER - 12

Note - Under the dire and sad circumstance of our hero's death, this poem seemed fitting. I implore you to read the last part of the previous chapter to get in the flow.

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-Dylan Thomas, 1914-1953

He lay on his back; he didn't know how but he knew that he was. He tried to move but couldn't. There was no feeling in his arms or legs. But he was aware that they were there, attached to his body. He was expecting the torrential wave of pain to strike him any moment now. But it didn't.

Why can't I feel the pain? Am I paralyzed?, he panicked.

His thoughts were in a muddle; swirling and eddying in his cloudy mind. Mind? No, it wasn't much of a mind. It was only darkness. A dark abyss surrounding this vestiges of his consciousness. Smothering him. It was a bottomless pit and he was suspended in between; swaying aimlessly in this licking blackness. It was like he was a kite dancing in the storm - detached from reality, detached from existence and life.

And this darkness was peaceful but overwhelming.

Where am I? What's happening?, he wondered.

As soon as the questions were formed, they shot out into the darkness, like firecrackers in the night and reverberated all around. They bounced off apparitions and illusions.

He was panicking but couldn't do anything about it. He willed himself to push through the darkness. He zoomed through the condensed blackness but collided against an invisible barrier. He pushed forward again but no, it wouldn't budge.

He changed direction and moved the other way, wading laboriously through the abrasive moots of darkness. And again collided with an invisible barrier.

Shit!

He moved up. Blocked.

He moved down. Blocked.

He was stuck in this boundless, bottomless pit of absolute blackness.

And this was making him claustrophobic.

Then he screamed. Screamed and screamed until they reverberated, echoed and collided against each other creating an orchestra pit, surging with poignant and ethereal cacophony which reeked of heart clenching agony. He was screaming, exuding all the sorrow and desolation out of his heart but there was no one to listen to it. Every sound, every word was being devoured by the darkness.

Oh God! Was this afterlife? Was this hell? Where was the evil and the suffering? Where was the perpetual fire where the wicked are burned and punished?

After all that was what he was here for. Punishment.

And those punishments he could take. Those he was ready for and deserving.

But this! This indifference. It was much worse - stuck on his lonesome in this suffocating blackness, with nothing but his disarrayed thoughts to keep him company.

He didn't know how long he could carry this on. He would go crazy.

And he started screaming again, pouring out all his frustrations, anger; his hopes and dreams in it, as they ricocheted off invisible walls and were swallowed up by the darkness.

There was no hope. No escape.

He was dead. And this was the ultimate prison. Prison of mortality. This was afterlife.

And the sooner he deigned himself to make peace with this the better for him.

This was going to be his home now.

And then suddenly like the rays radiating from the first glimpse of the sun he felt a weird, funny feeling burgeoning in the depth of his consciousness and spreading through him. It brought a comforting warmth over him. He didn't know what was happening to him. This feeling was alien to him and panic welled inside him.

What the hell is happening to me?, he wondered.

This weird feeling spread through him and shot out of him in tendrils. It shot into the darkness, momentarily sending flashes of light into it. It was like watching a lightning travel across a moonless sky. It was like nothing he had ever seen or experienced before. It was surreal.

But this weird feeling was giving rise to certain dormant sensations. These sensations were vaguely familiar to him. But at the same time they seemed like a long forgotten dream or the memory of a hot, lazy summer day with blurry details. These sensations kept slipping away from him as much as he tried to remember them.

Then slowly and painstakingly, a long time later or no time at all, these sensations and feeling brought forth memories. Memories of touch, hearing, sight, smell. And the fusion of these memories gave rise to the feeling that he existed. He was more aware of his existence now than he was mere moments ago. Now he was more than just dismembered thoughts. Now he felt alive.

Feelings and sensation crept into him slowly but surely, like light creeping into a dark room. He was becoming whole again. Now he was sure that he was lying on his back. And that there was also some surface he was lying on. Something hard and uneven. It was poking and jabbing at his back.

The sense of smell - he took a sniff. Everything smelled fresh and clean here. No fumes, or smoke. No musty, old warehouse reeking of lime or cement. Everything felt clean to him, like a dewy winter morning after the rain. The smell of cold, chilling air marinated with the dew drops was enough to calm his frenzied nerves. Even without his eyes he knew he was lying under the open sky, being reborn in it's resplendent gaze because he could smell it - the sun and the earth.

The sense of touch - a gust of wind crashed against his body, caressing his arms and face, ruffling his hair. It made a chill run down his spine. He shivered. A rare sense of elation gripped his heart. He had a body. Gingerly he rubbed his finger on the surface on which he lay. It was hard, wet and jagged. It was unfamiliar to his fingers.

And now he could feel his eyes. He tried opening them but couldn't. Bright light trained on his face was hindering it. He could feel the heat on his face. Strenuously he lifted his arm and shielded his face from the harsh light. And then he opened his eyes, inch by inch. Everything was so bright and shimmering. It was hurting his eyes. He blinked repeatedly as his eyes started watering. His eyelashes flickered in salvos as his eyes tried to adjust to the ambience.

At last the intensity and the harshness of the light reduced. And the ambience became clearer. It was like the thick, dense fog was being transfigured into something more tangible, more palpable. It was transforming into something physical - solid matter.

He could make out the sky now. It was so blue, like the caucasian sea. Billows of white, lustrous clouds hung up there. They looked so peaceful. It was like someone had hung them up with a string, considering that they weren't drifting. He let out a sigh which he had been holding on for a long time. He hadn't seen such a clear sky in a very long time.

I must be somewhere in the tropics, he mused.

Cautiously he lifted himself off the ground and on his feet. And he surveyed the surrounding. Everything was green and earthly. He was looking at a huge array of trees standing six meters away. They looked sombre and severe, as though mourning at someones funeral. Their dark, grimy trunks, which were broad and powerful, rose up as high as eighteen feet before diverging into thin, gangly branches. These trees went on and on for as far as he could see. It was a forest.

From six meters out he couldn't see much, but the bright light mellowed out amidst the depth of the foliages and the shrubbery. He could make out a green twilight being cast inside the woods, by the towering canopies. The thin, gawky and supple branches and the leaves, bored by the banality of immobility, swayed with the gust of wind. They rustled and whispered excitedly the tune of their new found flexibility, which only soothed the serenity of the atmosphere.

This was almost heavenly for him. It was all so quiet and bright. The sweet, clean smell of the air, the variegated leaves dancing in their resplendence, the clear blue sky coupled with the harsh glare of the sun on his back, was really comforting and enthralling to a level which he thought was no longer extant.

It lulled his body into a sense of perpetual calm. A blanket of serene solidarity with the ambience coursed through every vein in his body.

His body.

Shit! My body. The wounds and the bullets. What happened to them?, he wondered.

Impetuously, he patted himself; his chest, his stomach, his back, trying to discern what happened to his injuries. Then he realized that he wasn't garbed in green leather anymore. He was clothed in a white oversized cotton shirt and trousers. The garment felt smooth and soft under his fingers. They hung loosely on him giving his body more air to breathe.

He lifted his garment and checked for his wounds. He ran his fingers along his chest and stomach. No, nothing. Not even a scratch. Even the one's left on him when he was in the island had miraculously vanished. There was no pain in his body. His left arm was functioning and his shoulder felt fine. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing except smooth unblemished skin.

And this baffled him to no end.

What the hell is happening to me?, he wondered.

He dropped his shirt back and scratched his head. This situation was indeed perplexing. After the events which preceded this abrupt change in environment, he never expected to be up and walking at all. He had been killed. He remembered everything vividly; his life slipping out of him painfully, as he lay broken, on the cold, hard floor. He flinched and winced as the memory of that excruciating pain and agony came crashing back. It was disconcerting for him, as he remembered his cracked, fatigue laced voice enunciating all the anguish and trauma across the dark, dilapidated hall.

Oliver sighed heavily. Everything was tranquil and peaceful, except for the occasional whizzing of the wind and the soulful bursts of chitter and chirping of the birds and the insects which mingled with it.

He turned around abruptly. His mind was still boggled by this bizarre discovery, so he didn't realize where he was. He took two steps forward and before he could take the next step he pulled his leg back.

Shit!

"Wow!", he breathed, as he felt his heart jump to his throat and hastened back a couple of steps.

He was standing at the edge of a precipice. A huge one at that. One more step and he would have plummeted down. He carefully took a little step forward and peeked furtively over the edge. It was a long way down. He could make out the jagged rocks sticking out at the bottom of the cliff. A fall from this high up would be fatal.

As he toed the edge of this cliff, he felt the tug of the strong, swirling winds. They felt alien and abrasive. They were pulling him, coaxing him to jump, but he resisted. His vertigo was acting up but he shoved it down.

Oliver looked down again. Beyond the irregular and jagged boulders was a beach. It's long stretch of sand shone under the harsh sun like gold. The sand near the boulders was golden but mellow. But as it went further away from the boulders towards the shore, the sand got darker; to him it looked like the shore had gotten sicker where the lapping waves of the sea crashed. It was like the sands were sick and dirty, as the sparkling sea brought in all the sorrow and misery and dumped it on them.

The sea breeze crashed into him, caressing his face, ruffling his hair. He shivered. From up here, Oliver got a bird's eye view of the beach. And it was clean and spotless. No stones, no trash, not even a bark of a tree. He had never in his life seen such a clean, spotless beach. The only anomaly was the darkness and the sickness which the sea pilled up on the shore. The rhythm and the cadence of the waves hardly faltering, not at all caring about how the beach fared. It was relentless and unwavering, sweeping in resolutely as it licked the shore recurrently.

He shifted his gaze towards the horizon, where the sparkling and shimmering sea sat silently and calming; as though waiting patiently for an impending disaster. Even though he was so far out, he could still feel it's radiating power and dominance. He could feel it in the air. He could feel it in the winds, as they crashed against him and whispered into his ears the archaic tales of power and ruthlessness of the sea.

All in all, the scene which unfolded in front and around him was filled with tranquility. And he was responding to it, obliviously. He felt relaxed and at ease. Something he hadn't felt in years. His mind and his body were one and in ease with the serenity of the surrounding. The muscles on his shoulders and jaws which were always taut with tension were now slackened, soaking in this nurturing and nourishing air.

This place was too good to be true.

Then like a punch to the gut, it hit him.

He was dead. He had been killed.

And this must be heaven.

Or hell.

Or after-life.

Definitely afterlife. No place was as perfect as this. It was warm and fuzzy in here. His decadent body had withered away in that warehouse and this walking apparition left of his was only his consciousness. This was it. He was trapped in this picture perfect illusion of a world. There was no going back. Back to all the people that he left behind. Back to the few people he loved.

A gloomy despondence crashed into him like a landslide at this epiphany. His heart sank. He watched the waves crash endlessly and relentlessly against the shore. He was dead. But the world would go on, no matter what. The clock would still tick. All the trials and tribulations, all those pain and torture that he went through had been for nothing. He had rarely left a smudge much less a mark on the world. His time was over and he had not been able to save anyone in his life. He was a failure; no more than an ant which walked upon the earth. His life had hardly mattered.

He fell down to his knees right there at the edge, which separated the ground from the sky. His shoulders stooped down and his head hung low, in an act of crushing defeat. His hands laid on either side of him, limp and flaccid on the dirt. His resolve was crushed and his will broken.

He was a broken man and there was no redemption for him.

Hope and dreams squeezed out of his heart and was replaced with a deep, morose sorrow. His heart clenched in pain as restlessness grew. And suddenly and almost impetuously, he let out a scream. A scream filled with morose and poignant pain and sorrow. This scream vivified the story of his life; from birth to death. All the hardships, all those battles and last but not the least all those people that he lost, all those times that his heart broke when he couldn't save his loved ones.

All those years of pent up frustrations and regrets collided against his fragile armor and the floodgates banged open. Tears flowed unbridled from his eyes, as one sob after another rocked his body violently. He couldn't control this over flowing emotion which staggered his body. His heart clenched painfully in sorrow again and he let out another scream. Another strangled cry full of remorse and resentment. It only persisted for a couple of seconds before it mingled with the air and vanished amidst the whizzing breeze. His cries were only momentary but ethereal. A monument to his thorn infested life. The end of an edifice, an ideology.

His sobbing continued, as he felt his emotional wall constricting. His throat started throbbing. He coughed and spluttered violently as he spit on the ground. At that moment he had truly given up; no hope floating in him to fire up an insurgency. It was over. The end.

He collapsed and curled up on the ground like an infant waiting to be enveloped by his mother. He was waiting to be whisked away by the wind or to wither away into the ether. But neither happened. Exhaustion and sleep cascaded down on him gently. His eyelids grew heavier and he passed out.

The day progressed slowly, dragging it's heel reluctantly. The wind picked up speed - swirling and swerving as it moved into the mainland ruffling and skittering all the moots away. The sea was sitting still, like a sombre and distinguished gentleman minding his own business. The harsh sun picked up the heat and harrowed down on the land. But Oliver just lay there bathed in the noon sun, still and defenseless, recuperating from the emotionally vexing upheaval. He wasn't aware of all these occurring over and around him.

The next time he came around was from a constant jabbing at his side. Some one was hovering over him trying to wake him up. The person in question shook him gently, trying to bring him out of unconsciousness.

Oliver cracked his eye open, still groggy and covered with cold sweats. He looked up at the figure hovering over him. Under the glare of the harsh sun, he couldn't see the person's face.

The person shook him again and called

"Hey, wake up."

Oliver's attention piqued at hearing the man's voice. His eyes widened instantly. It was familiar, like he had just heard it yesterday. He would recognize it anywhere. His heart leapt into his throat and the grogginess sprinted out of him.

It couldn't be, he thought.

Hope and happiness poured into his heart and concocted a heady mixture which inebriated him with pleasure and joy. The world was colorful again.

"Wake up lazybones. We haven't got all day." said the man, his voice laced with mirth.

It was. It really was him. But his ears could be deceiving him. He needed tangible proof. He had to see that face that went with the voice.

It could be an impostor or the creation of his demented mind.

"Hey Ollie, get up man. On your feet, bro."

Oliver pushed himself up on his feet and inspected the man. Everything was the same. The wind swept hair. The same cheek bones, prominent but not poking out. His hollow cheeks were pulled back into a wide goofy smile - his white teethes gleaming. Mischievous eyes regarded him, skittering rapidly across his face. The only difference was that now a three day stubble festooned his pointy chin. He was dressed in the same attire as Oliver, but he looked more comfortable in it. The carefree look had always suited him more. Whereas Oliver had always been uncomfortable in his own skin.

A heavy sighed escaped him.

"Tommy…." he exhaled into the air in between them.

The jolly face of Tommy Merlyn grinned back at him, "How are you Oliver?"

Almost impulsively, without further thought, he dived at Tommy and pulled him into a bear hug.

He couldn't believe it. But he didn't care. It was Tommy. His best friend. In flesh and blood.

And even if it wasn't he didn't care anymore. He was too tired.

He clung onto Tommy like his life depended on him. Tears started trickling down his cheeks again. But this time it was due to happiness. His heart was pounding furiously in his chest. It felt like it would blow up like a balloon and burst with happiness at any moment. It was overwhelming him.

A violent sob rocked his body.

"Woh…Ollie, Ollie. It's okay. It's me. I am here now. Everything will be alright. Trust me." consoled Tommy.

But he continued sobbing. His body rocked and trembled for what seemed like hours. The tough, hard exterior had withered away; all that was left was the small innocent boy who had lost his best friend.

This reunion was tough for Tommy too. His face was contorted too; any moment he would break down.

He pulled away from Oliver and looked at him.

"God Ollie….you are a mess."

Oliver controlled his emotions and reigned in the sobs. He had to get real now. He had so many questions.

"Tommy." his voice hoarse. " What are you doing here?"

Tommy gave him an encouraging smile, glad that Oliver was pulling it together.

"I am here for you Ollie. You need my help." replied Tommy curtly, as though this statement solved all the troubles in the world.

"Help? But you are dead. And so am I for that matter."

Tommy's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Yes, I am dead. Thanks for reminding me dumbo."

Oliver cringed. "Sorry for being blunt but I am not in the right mind. And seeing you in flesh and blood just hammered the final nail in the coffin."

Tommy laughed at his expression. "It's okay. Well come on, lets sit down. We have a lot to talk about."

Both of them sat down on the ground at the edge of the cliff. Oliver looked out at the horizon. The sea and the sky met at perfect harmony. Both were peaceful and at truce. The sun still burning bright high up in the sky, occasionally weaving in and out into the clouds. Waves still crashed into the shore; it's sound got lost in the distance.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" asked Tommy.

Oliver turned towards him. He too was looking at the horizon; his eyes were glazed.

"Yes, it is. It is a beautiful day." replied Oliver.

How could it not be? He got to meet his friend again.

The silence again fell between them. Oliver was squirming with unease, because he had a lot of questions.

"Tommy." he called.

"Hmm."

"I have a lot of questions." said Oliver.

Tommy looked at him. "Ask away."

"You are dead, right?" asked Oliver.

"Yes."

"Then I am dead as well." deducted Oliver.

At this Tommy gave him a wink and replied with a smile, "That's the thing. You aren't."

"I am not?", now he was clearly confused.

"Nope, you are not. What's the last thing you can remember before you woke up here?" asked Tommy.

Oliver pondered on the question for some time. What was the last thing he remembered?

He remembered the fight. Not clearly though. Right now every memory of that fight was blurry and obscure; it was as if he had been drugged. The only thing he remembered clearly was the pain. The immense, gut wrenching, flesh-burning agony that his body had been subjected to pierced through the dense fog and came to the forefront of his mind. He cringed at that.

"I remember the fight….against Slade and the others. There was the mayor's daughter. God…I don't even know if she is okay…..Foremost of all I remember the pain and the agony. It was terrible. My body was on fire. I couldn't think…I could only feel. And in the back of my mind there was this intense and unwavering need to rid myself off the pain in any way possible. And then it did. The pain stopped. And then it got cold….really cold. Chilling. After that all I can remember is a big fat cut to black and then I woke up here.", finished Oliver.

Tommy was regarding him with a solemn expression, as though trying to unravel the truth behind one of the greatest mystery.

"And that's all you remember?" enquired Tommy.

Oliver nodded.

"Hmmm….and why do you think that is?"

Oliver furrowed his brows at Tommy. What kind of question was that? He was tired of being in the unknown. He hated being ignorant. And right now he was in the dark. He didn't know what was going on around him. This situation was perplexing for him. He needed some answers right away.

He shot up from his sitting position and looked down at Tommy, who was startled by this sudden movement. He looked up at the towering figure of Oliver.

And Oliver massaged his forehead and said, " Tommy…what is going on here? I just can't wrap my head around it. You said I am not dead. Then what am I doing here? What are you doing here? You show up here and ask questions. You can't expect me to answer them. At least not without answering few questions of my own. Okay….just answer some of my questions….."

Tommy regarded this with a grave expression and nodded, "I am not sure I can answer all of them but I will try to do so to the best of my capabilities."

Oliver turned his head left and right, and asked, "What is this place?"

"I don't know."

Oliver glared at him, "Come on Tommy…."

"What? I really don't. Look around. What does it look like to you?"

Oliver looked around, intensely this time. Suddenly this place looked vaguely familiar, like a place he once visited in a long forgotten dream. The grim looking trees whispering, the waves licking the shore, the cliff, those evil looking boulders at the bottom of the cliff, the beach - they all felt familiar. This place, no matter how polished, sparkling or bright it was, gave off a sick morbid vibe, that Oliver noticed now. This place was trying to hide something - something gore and gruesome.

And then it clicked; realization dawned on him. Of course he knew what this place was.

This is home.

"This is home Tommy…" whispered Oliver.

"What?"

"This is Lian - Yu. This is the island I was stranded on."

Tommy quirked his neck, like a rabbit hearing the sound of an approaching predator. He then looked around, left and right.

"So….this is the fabled Lian - Yu. It is a beautiful place." stated Tommy, clearly awestruck.

Oliver scoffed, "There is nothing beautiful about this place. When I was here it wasn't as bright and sunny. It was cold. This place is gruesome and grotesque. It's a dark and grim place which breeds monsters and manics. It also gave birth to me. This polished and bright appearance is just a facade…..a masquerade to hide the more deeper and hideous truth. Nothing good ever came out of this place. This place deserves to wither away and die."

"That's a lot of hostility and contempt towards the place that gave birth to you." observed Tommy.

Oliver gave a empty laugh, "Well you would be contemptuous too, if you were in my shoes. Right now this beautiful scenery that you see, it's just a mirage…..this is darkness shrouded in beauty."

"Well I think that the contempt is misguided."

"What? Why?" asked Oliver.

"To put it in your words, this mirage or facade that you see is maybe the level this place can reach to once it's potential has been realized. It's just my opinion and I think I am entitled to that much….but this place is so much like you Oliver. You too have a potential to be great…to be immense. But there is a darkness…a weight that you have been carrying around that has been impeding you from becoming the hero that you can be. This place….once it has shed it's darkness, has evolved into a much more beautiful and serene place. And you can too."

Oliver scoffed lightly at his words. " You too huh? All those crap about me being a force for good and that there is redemption for me."

"Of course.", said Tommy with conviction. "Everyone is redeemable, no matter how despicable a thing you do. It isn't easy. But you have to be really sorry and remorseful."

"Oh Tommy….you are so naive. You think just by being sorry and repenting, all our crimes are just wiped clean. I feel sorry every day. I am filled to the brim with remorse and contempt towards myself. But that doesn't mean that all my mistakes and crimes are absolved. They are like tiny thorns under my foot. I can walk all right but, I flinch in pain with every step I take."

"I may be naive to think that. And I am dead so that won't have any effect on me. But you my friend…..you Ollie are still alive. And this darkness that has taken hold of your heart and soul is not only infecting -"

"Hang on…." interrupted Oliver.

"Huh?"

"Why do you keep saying that I am not dead? I mean I am here with you so that must mean I am dead." said Oliver.

Tommy huffed, exhaling a long held breathe.

"You are not dead Oliver. You are teetering between life and death. You are in that transitory moment between life and death."

Oliver slumped down on the ground in defeat. This was too much. It was unfathomable. First Tommy, now this. His emotions and sensibility was taking a massive hit today.

"Do you know how crazy that is?" asked Oliver derisively.

"You mean more crazy than you taking to your dead best friend." countered Tommy.

Well, he had a point. Everything was looking and feeling so screwed up. Everything was disheveled and disoriented.

"Just humor me Ollie. Believe me when I say this, you are stuck between life and death. And this…..all of this around you, and me, we are all projections of your mind…here to ease the transition." said Tommy.

Oliver quirked his eyebrows.

"Transition to where exactly?" he asked.

"Transition from here to…..you know, beyond. Or from here back to living."

Oliver looked at him incredulously.

"Back to living….you mean to say I can choose."

"Yes….and it's all up to you….and I am here to guide you."

"So….right now, right this instance….if I say that I want to go back…then I can?" asked Oliver skeptically.

"Yes, you can. It isn't easy. You will have to really let go of one aspect. If you wish to go onwards, into the beyond then you really let go of your life. You should not have even a sliver of regret about your life. You just have to give up….And if you want to go back, then well it is the hardest thing you will do till date. You will have to summon and hold on the parts of your life that are worth living, the reason why you wanna go back….the reason you are choosing life over death. Hard over easy."

"It seems that you are speaking from experience….."

Tommy fixed him with a rueful gaze, "Nope….not from experience. See unlike you, I didn't get a chance at this. This opportunity that you have Ollie….it's a gift. I never got it. For me it was straight up….no safety net in between, no second chance."

His face had contorted now, like a book wrinkled and dog-eared with old age. Oliver could see that he was trying to hold back his emotions. All his hopes and dream; all his desires, will remain unfulfilled and empty. He looked so sad and forlorn that it hurt Oliver.

"Look at me Ollie….look at this visage. I am a seething mass of regrets and unfulfilled wishes. All of that has become dead and turned to dust. A premature manifestation of life. The self destructive path that you have chosen to walk on is lonely and will most likely turn you into something like me. You will become an old man, filled with resentment and regrets, waiting to die alone. So choose well Ollie for it will not only affect you but will shape the outcome of the what's coming."

Oliver frowned, "What's coming?"

"A storm." replied Tommy pointing towards the horizon.

Oliver turned around and looked at the distant horizon. And sure enough, above the horizon there were dark clouds billowing and swirling. It was moving towards them slowly and stealthily, to suck the warmth out of the day.

Oliver sighed. It was like he had just aged by a decade. It was too much emotionally.

"Okay….then tell me, if I were to go forward and beyond, what would that entail? he asked.

" Oh…that's the easiest. You just have to let go of your life. You won't be Oliver Queen or Arrow anymore. Your identity will be stripped off you and you will have denounced the most precious thing in the world - life. That is a feat worthy of the dead. You will denounce your existence. And besides you will get to meet your mom and dad."

"Mom and dad?" asked Oliver almost wistfully.

Tommy smiled. "They are very proud of you, you know. So proud. If only you could see their face. You wrestle with self doubt and self deprecation everyday. And all those doubts and worries would have been absolved with one look into their faces. You are doing so much good out there. You change the lives of every person that you have touched, for better or for worse. You are a hero Oliver."

"Don't put faith where it will go unrequited Tommy. God knows I have let people down. You, mom, dad, Shado and a lot more. This eats me up every waking moment. My failures…they mock me, laugh at me everyday. And if only it were to end there….I couldn't even save Starling City. Amanda was right…I can never be anything more than a vigilante….a criminal who only acts for his own gratification…."

"What? Don't be ridiculous Ollie. You save lives everyday at the cost of your own. You saved Starling City, from monster, maniacs and even from itself countless number of times. No matter what bullshit anyone says, you are a hero Oliver….and a fighter. You fight…that's what you do. You always have been. The world needs people like you."

"I am not being ridiculous Tommy. I am being realistic. For the past three years I have been busting my ass trying to clean up the god damn city. And every damn time all of my hard work comes undone. Why Tommy? Why can't it be peaceful for once? Why can't I catch a break? It's like trying to clear the leaves off the road on a windy day. You put your heart and soul into collecting all the leaves in one place and at precisely the next instance the wind blows and sweeps the leaves back all over the place. It's exasperating."

Tommy sighed and his forehead cringed, as though he was doing some deep thinking.

"Okay Ollie…..tell me something. You are having some kind of existential crisis. And the best way to combat that is to go to the beginning. So we go to the beginning them. Answer this - what was the reason behind you becoming the Arrow?" asked Tommy.

Oliver huffed. He did not want to take a walk down memory lane. Living through it once had been enough.

"Do we really need to this do?" asked Oliver.

"Yes, we do, no matter how exasperating it is. Somewhere along the line you forgot your motive. Everything got muddled up, it got tough for you and you lost sight of things…..your wagon swerved off the road and now, maybe, I can help you to see things clearly…..get your act together and push your wagon back onto the road."

Oliver sighed. Might as well, he thought.

"You know how it began Tommy. I told you already. It all began because of my dad and all of his crimes. It was to undo his wrongs. In a way it was fitting. A good legacy. The son cleans up after the father. But I never felt that this responsibility was forced upon me. I embraced it on my own free will. I mean…it was incumbent on my part to right the wrongs. It was my duty. My priority back then was to investigate my dad's murder and the undertaking he was entangled in. And before I knew it I was way in over my head. If it had not been for my friends I would have gone insane. They kept my head into the game…..and then I lost you and half the city got destroyed, because I was naive and incompetent. I was weak."

"And after that?" pushed on Tommy.

"After the earthquake, when the dust finally settled…..I was at lose. The task that my father set for me was over and in the process you were dead. It hit me very hard Tommy…your death. We grew up together…we did everything together and then there you were lying in the rubble with a rod through your chest. It was devastating. I gave up everything and then went away to the island for about two months before my friends dragged me out of there."

"They told me that Starling needed me. That I had inadvertently started an insurgency against all those that had tried to oppress the city. They told me that I could be a force for good, help the people from the shadows. There was this idea….the idea which had stemmed from our forefathers, who only wanted what we want, a better and a safe place to live in. Ideas are bulletproof Tommy even if I wasn't. I was to become a beacon, a vanguard against the most venal and grotesque atrocities committed by the hood was to remind people again that truth and justice wasn't a myth but our prerogative, our perspective."

"And it worked didn't it. You worked tirelessly to ingratiate those views into the people and their way of thinking. Even the cops changed their view of you. You were elevating Starling to the glory of it's older days. You saved the city from my father and a maniac." said Tommy.

"Yes, it worked, I will admit to that. But Tommy it worked for only so long. It was like a temporary solution. Intimidation and brute force was only gonna work for so long. I couldn't find any kind of permanent solution. And most of all I wasn't aware of how it was affecting my life. Every night I donned that suit and went out their I lost myself little by little. A man recently pointed out to me that a person could only go by one name. I am afraid Tommy…..afraid that I am loosing myself in the hood. Afraid that by the time it's over there won't be any Oliver Queen left."

"That's bullshit!", shot Tommy.

"What?"

"You are spouting bullshit. Whoever told you that knows jack-shit about you. I know you Ollie…you are my best friend. You are who you are…the Arrow is what you can do…If any one can pull it off, it's you. You were meant for greatness and to lead. You were always meant to be a hero. You had a good heart…..but you needed to go through that crucible to realize your potential." said Tommy.

"That may be true Tommy but at what cost. This crusade is coming at a great personal cost. I am forgetting who I am. The delineation between right and wrong is getting blurred. I am afraid that if I continue with this I will become the very evil that I have been trying to fight for all these years. Amanda was right…..I have unleashed nothing but anarchy into the society. I have made a joke of the very structures that glue the society together and separates us from the barbarians. Nothing good came out of the Arrow. There is only havoc and chaos. There is no reason for me to go back Tommy."

"What? Are you crazy? You are gonna turn down your chance to live again. You are gonna abandon the people…That's a very selfish thing to do."

"It's not selfish Tommy. I have given up my whole life to look after the people. I did what my father asked me. Is it so wrong for me to want a normal life? I look at the people around me…..Diggle, he has a kid with the love of his life. Felicity, well she moved on. She told me that she wanted to have a life outside this. Laurel, Thea….everyone moved on save me. I am still stuck in this vicious cycle of doom. My life is stagnant as ever. It has been three years since I left the island but I haven't moved on. In my mind…..I am still stuck in that gateway of hell, banished from life."

Oliver finally realized what the problem had been all along. It had been lingering and coagulating in the back of his mind but he hadn't been able to put a finger to it, at least not until now. He was tired of this degrading life and wanted out of it, at least his subconscious did; and he had not been aware of it. He had been feeling the pressure for quite some time now, hovering over his head like a double-edged sword, ready to plunge into him should he ever let it seep in.

He had always know that there would come a time when Starling city no longer needed the Arrow. And Oliver was sure that the moment was within grasp.

Silence seeped into the air as the echoes of their conversation evaporated. There was a certain anticipation to this silence, as though it was ready to break again and was just waiting for the cue.

Far over the horizon, the storm was still imposing itself over the sea, slowly coercing and seducing it to revel with it in this looming and evident outbreak. It was only a matter of time before it was upon them.

"Oliver….there is a certain grandiosity to what you do. You do the devil's work for God, and you do it well. So it would be quite selfish of all the people to have expectations of you. You owe them nothing, but they owe you their lives." said Tommy.

"They don't owe me anything. In fact they think I am a disease which they want to wash their hands off." spat Oliver.

"Nevertheless Ollie, they can't deny that they owe you their lives. Contrary to vox populi, you are the best form of justice the city has ever had. You use your bow and fists in lieu of law, and law has shackles. People are like sheep Oliver. They follow the herd. But you are their shepherd. Your job is to guide them and be there for them even when they don't want it. They will seek to destroy you, they will come at you with pitchforks, hurl stones and insults at you…..but you must endure everything because the image that you created can take it. Because the idea is to be more than a man. The idea is to be a symbol. You are the one Starling sorely needs but unfortunately is not the one it deserves."

Oliver sighed and ran his hand through his sand and grit marred hair.

"You have a point there Tommy. And there is no denying the fact that Starling has reached a sort of stability under me. And I have strived hard…fought tooth and nail for it. I would really hate for it to come undone." admitted Oliver.

"Precisely. And you really need to go back Oliver. You can't abandon them when they need you the most."

"Why do you say that?" asked Oliver.

"Like I said before, there is a storm coming. The likes of which you have never seen before. It's gonna get tough…lives will be lost….your faith will be shaken. And in the midst of all that when everything will seem lost to you….you must remember who you are and what you have created. You must be cruel to show kindness. Foremost of all you have to believe - in yourself and those around you."

Oliver nodded slowly as his words sank in. All those doubts seeded in his mind were nipped at the bud and not given much room to fester. To him Tommy was the light which had illuminated his dark and dreary path. He had shown him the way - the forgotten path. And it filled him with hope and conviction that he could do it. One last time.

"What are you gonna do now Ollie?" asked Tommy, his eyes burning with a subdued fire.

"I am gonna go back….and do what I do best. But this is the last time I am gonna honor the hood. This will be the my curtain call. This is where my road ends for me. I will close my chapter here and start a new one."

" Good…..it is not your destiny to die so soon. The world needs men like you Oliver to hold it together."

He pushed up from where he was seated, moved towards Oliver and clasped his hand on his shoulder, in an act of camaraderie.

"You've been a good friend Ollie. You are like the brother I never had. And I cherished every moment I spent with you, even those which we spent in debauchery. I am sorry that I ever called you a murderer. I am so very proud of you and so is everyone else."

His eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, as he tried to hold back the sobs.

Oliver too was trying to swallow back the torrential sobs which would take hold of him any moment, "I am so sorry Tommy…I am sorry that I couldn't save you, I am sorry for everything. I tried to be a good friend but failed at that too."

Tommy tightened his grip on his shoulder, "Hey….that wasn't your fault. It was my decision to go into that building that night. It was my decision, you get it…..It wasn't yours. And you should respect that…respect my decision and be proud of it, like I am of you. Do not pity the dead Ollie, pity the living and those who live without hope and love. Save the city for me this one last time."

"Don't carry the weight of everyone's death on your shoulder Oliver. It's unhealthy. You should not not dwell on what happened and what is yet to happen. Shed the weight of the past, know that the future is gonna be alright and live the present to the fullest. A hero is made not from questioning the past or from fearing what's to come. A hero is made in the present. And you Ollie are a fighter and a survivor. You are gonna fight this and take stead on a new and glorious day…."

Oliver let Tommy's confidence and assurance wash over him. It emboldened him and made his blood run hot. He could do it. One last time - give it everything he had.

"So what do I do now? How do I go back?" asked Oliver.

Tommy took a couple of steps towards Oliver, his eyes were as dark and tense as the storm brewing behind him. Oliver took a step back uncomfortably. He was now at the edge; he could feel the emptiness at the end of his heel.

"Wake up Oliver." said Tommy, with no shift in his cadence.

"What?" asked Oliver.

"Wake up Oliver." chanted Tommy again.

And suddenly his vision disoriented and got hazy. Tommy's words echoed in his head like it was ricocheting off his skull. His vision got blurry, he was getting flashes of the hall where he had been pummeled. It was similar to how flashes of lightening illuminate a dark place for a millisecond. He caught glimpses of the scrappy and grimy ceiling of the hall, underneath which his body lay. And then all of a sudden his vision reverted back to focus on Tommy.

He blinked repeatedly. What was happening now?

"Tommy…what's happening to me?" asked Oliver helplessly.

"You need to wake up now. It's time." intoned Tommy.

Then Tommy did something which Oliver did not anticipate.

"Wake up Oliver." he incanted, and pushed Oliver back off the edge, hard.

Oliver was shocked. He flailed his arms and legs, trying to grab hold of anything that would stop his fall. But couldn't, as vertigo clenched his heart and gravity pulled him down.

He fell and fell. The air rushed up to meet, ruffling his hair and his clothes. He literally got a tunnel vision; everything in the surrounding blurred away. He could only make out the sombre face of Tommy's as it grew smaller and got further away. The wind whooshed and whistled louder in his ears as his vision grew blurry and faded to darkness.

Then in the hall, Oliver Queen woke up with a start, clutching his chest as he tried to quell the searing pain racing through his body.

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Author's note - As usual I would like to thank everyone for reading this story. And thank you for all the follows, favorites and the reviews.

So here I am with the next chapter, as promised. I told you I would bring Oliver back to life….so this is how I chose to do it. I hope it's not to cliched. I didn't want to take the obvious path like the Lazarus pit or time travel. If it would have been my call I wouldn't have introduced them in Arrow at all. But it's not up to me so I am just trying to reign in my inner cynic and enjoy this new season.

This chapter is a shout out to my favorite episode of Arrow, "Three Ghosts". There were so many levels to that episode and the feel at the end…..awesome. Another shout out to the "Homecoming" episode of Smallville, where Brainiac urges Clark to let go of the darkness inside him. Like that episode this chapter is also a turning point for Oliver in this story. There is a different feel to this chapter. This isn't really supernatural…..it's more metaphysical….like it's all in his head. Like wise I wanted Tommy to pull Oliver out of his rut. And last but not the least the "Kings cross" chapter of the last Harry Potter book also served as an inspiration.

Captain Lance is gonna come in next chapter…..so stay tuned.

Now what did you guys think about the new Civil Wars and Dawn of Justice trailer?

Peace out


	13. Chapter 13

_With perseverance comes determination and with determination comes the will to live._

Pain….pain….immense and unfathomable pain and agony gripped his body, biting and nibbling away at his flesh and bones. He huffed and puffed, taking in deep breaths, but even that was difficult. He wiggled and squirmed trying to lift his arms through the pain, but couldn't; it was as if someone had pinned them to the floor.

"Damn it Tommy…..you should have warned me about this…" exhaled Oliver through gritted teeth.

His mind was clouded and hazy with the pain, but Tommy's last words echoed in his mind like a mantra which gave him solace through the pain.

 _Wake up Oliver….Wake up…..wake up….._

The words rang clear like church bells on a chilly morning and cut through the haze like a hot knife cutting butter. It cleared up his muddled mind and gave him clarity - to think and act accordingly.

Then slowly his hearing got clearer and the only sound emanating in the hall entered his ears. It was a beeping noise. It wasn't loud, it was soft but audible, even to Oliver who was not in a sound position.

 _What is that? Sounds like some sort of timer._

This thought filled him with dread.

 _Shit! What if it's a bomb?_

This really worried him. He was in a conundrum, considering the hapless condition he was in.

He quirked his neck and lifted his head up an inch to look for the source of the sound. And there it was, the red halo glowing on the plasticine stuck to walls.

 _Holy_ _Shit!_

Bombs all around the room. Set on a timer. This whole place was rigged to blow.

Oliver cursed silently. He was in a messy situation, and it would take all his brawn and wit to get out of it. He tilted his head and checked the timer on the bomb. It read a little under six and a half minute. And he had less than that much time to get out of here. His work was cut out for him.

Time was ticking. The red letters on the timer were shifting at a tremendous pace as if they were in an uncanny urgency. And this rapid beeping - a constant reminder of his approaching death, was driving him into action.

 _Ok, Ollie, time to get real and move buddy._

He tried to push himself up, groaning and spluttering in agony. He took deep breaths, huffing, and puffing, as moats of spit spewed out of his mouth. And then he pushed, barreling through the agonizing pain, forging his will and determination into a sharp blade to cleave through the blinding pain.

And then after few precious seconds of harrowing effort, he pushed himself up, well, at least, his upper body; his legs were still stretched out in front of him. The wound on his shoulder was pulling and stinging with pain, but it was bearable. His right arm was functional considering the rest of his body but was still pretty sore. His upper back was totally numb, with a dull and pounding ache. Lawton had shot him thrice. One of the bullets had grazed his neck, which had resulted in a thin scratch which was bleeding. but it wasn't anything life-threatening. The other two bullets though were a whole other story.

Both the bullets were lodged in his shoulder blade, two inches below the right shoulder. Both the bullets were five centimeters apart from each other and were bleeding profusely. But luckily for him, Lawton's wrist gun was merely meant for stunning and injuring, not killing. He had actual guns to do the killings. And if the gunshot wounds were not treated quickly then there was a chance that he could bleed out and die.

But that wasn't his concern right now.

His current consternation was regarding his broken arm, which was lying flaccid at an awkward angle on the ground beside him. There was so much pain all over his body, that he wasn't aware which was emanating from where. Everything was muddled.

But when he tried to lift the broken hand, he felt the thumping pulsating ache surge across the broken, disjointed bone. He groaned in pain.

He turned his head and checked the timer. A little under six minutes.

 _Shit! Think Ollie. Think!_

He racked his brain. If only he could make a sling to support his hand. Then it struck him.

Of course, he could.

He looked down at his green leather. It was scorched, tattered and marred in blood. Slade had somehow torn off the hood with his bare hands, and due to that, there were threads jutting out of the collar. So now maybe he could tear his jacket in half and fashion into a cast. At least, he had to try.

He looked at the timer.

 _Beep…..beep….beep, beep…_

 _Less than five minutes. Come on Ollie. Hurry!_

He gritted his teeth, moved his right arm and slowly shrugged out of the jacket. It was quite difficult and painful for Oliver. All the while he groaned loudly. He gingerly and carefully lifted his left arm and placed it on his lap to avoid aggravating it further. He was glistening with sweat and shuddering with pain. The pain and agony were hindering him from efficiently performing the task.

But he had to do it.

 _Beep…beep, beep, beep…_

He didn't dare look at the timer. He lifted the jacket and tore it into a long, wide strip with his teeth and right hand. Then he took the two ends of the strip and tried to tie a knot, but he only had his right hand to do so.

He placed one end over the other and wound it around to make a loop. He was breathing heavily and his hand was trembling. He was having trouble concentrating and the constant beeping was certainly not helping. Then he slipped the loose end through the loop and tightened it with his teeth.

 _Good. It's done. It's crude, but it will serve the purpose._

He looped the sling around his neck, then slowly and cautiously lifted his left hand and placed it into the sling. He tucked his hand closer to his chest to keep it safe and secure. This provided him with a sliver of reprieve.

"Ok…that's done. Over to the next part."

He looked at the timer. Three and a half minutes.

His heart filled with dread. Somehow he didn't seem to catch a break. One after other complications piled up on him. So he moved with the flow. He let the fear and dread push him.

He pushed himself up with difficulty. His body parts felt like really old and rusted cogs of an out of order machine. They protested and groaned, unwilling to comply to his wishes. But he pushed forward anyway. He got up on both his feet. They were tingling, as blood started circulating in them vigorously. He winced as he felt a pull in his right knee; one which he got from Slade kicking him. But it wasn't anything life-threatening.

Now he had to get out of here. He could go the same way he came, but retracing his steps would take a lot of time. And time was something which he didn't have ample of. He looked around.

 _There has to be a way out of here._

 _Beep…beep, beep, beep….._

The beep of the timer filled up the entire hall. It was as much annoying as terrifying for him. It was hindering his thinking.

He looked up at the windows. This hall was on the ground floor, so the windows would lead directly outside. He limped closer to the wall and inspected the windows. They were twelve feet high and five feet wide. So he could fit through them. Yes, this was his only way out.

But now the only problem was climbing up that high. Time was ticking; the incessant beeping of the timer, now at the same rate as his heartbeat, was a constant yet terrifying reminder of that.

 _I could grapple up there but-_

He glanced at his broken hand. It would be difficult to use a bow, but not entirely impossible. He was ambidextrous when it came to shooting, and it came to be so because he had been in a similar situation a couple of times before.

He looked around the hall, searching for his quiver and bow. And he found it. His quiver, with the spilled out arrows, was lying on the floor, near the foot of the rack where Harkness had slashed open his chest. His bow however, was lying on the other side of the hall, near the opposite wall.

So he moved as quickly as he could with the limp; collected the bow and moved to where his quiver lay. He squatted down, picked out two arrows and moved towards the wall. He crouched down again, placed one arrow on the floor beside him and nocked the other. Then holding the bow with his right hand, he pulled the arrow back with his teeth, aimed it at the window and shot.

The window was papered shut and the arrow broke through the glass, making a small hole. Now he could grapple up, break the glass easily and jump on the other side.

He turned towards the timer one last time. Just under a minute.

"Shit…..shit, shit, shit, shit!" he cursed under his breath.

His hand was trembling again as he tried to nock the grappling arrow. The string just wouldn't go into the notch. But somehow he put it in, aimed it at the region just above the window, pulled the string with his teeth and released. The arrow zipped through the air and impaled itself on the wall. He heard the gears whirring in the bow and the familiar tug upwards.

He reached up and placed his feet on the ledge. Then he kicked the glass and it shattered. He threw the bow on the other side and jumped, throwing caution to the wind. He fell down twelve feet, as the cold air rushed up to meet his bare body. It had gotten dark outside so he couldn't see the ground clearly and hence couldn't anticipate the fall. The ground came up hard and fast, and when his feet struck it they buckled under him and he collapsed on the ground hard. Luckily, the ground was covered with layers of dried leaves and twigs. So it did not do him any bodily harm but it aggravated the wound on his shoulder. The pain split his shoulder in two and he shrieked out in pain. His pain filled voice echoed into the empty, hollow evening. The chill and the pain which jolted through him reminded him that he was still alive and that there was work to be done.

He was still within the blast radius.

 _Move, move, move, move!_

He pushed himself up, his feet pulling and straining in protest. Then he limped away from the warehouse and scuttled towards the woods as fast as he could. His lungs were screaming in pain, as they demanded more oxygen. He huffed and puffed like a bull blowing out air in exhaustion. The hairs on his nape were erect from the cold and his skin taut. He dragged his strained leg, as it scattered and flitted the dried leaves and twigs lying on the now damp ground. He had moved about fifteen steps away from the warehouse when it happened.

The warehouse exploded.

And the whole world lit up like a bonfire.

A thunderous rumble emanated from it which jarred his bearings. The earth shook and the force of the blast flung him forward like a rag doll. His vision tilted and his body arched upward and then down. His mind was blank; he wasn't even aware what was happening until it was all over.

He crashed against the snaky, wrinkled and twisted root of a tree, which knocked the wind out of him. The fall scratched him across the arm and split open his right glove across the palm. But compared to the more grave injuries he was already sporting these were nothing.

The whole scene was lit up under the evening sky and the frowning trees. The flame danced and licked up the whole place, billowing upwards. He could feel the heat on his back. He shivered and pushed himself up. He was disoriented, but that was it.

He had escaped the worst.

And escape from the clutches of death.

 _Phew! That was a close call._

He turned around and looked at the wrecked building being swallowed up by the raging inferno. He was supposed to have been in there, being burned to a crispy critter. He wrung his nose in disgust as the burning smell assaulted his nose. It looked like a pyre, crackling and shooting out small burnt flecks.

He looked down at his soot-covered body. He was a mess. His eye fell on his palm where his glove had split open. The address written with a sharpie was still there, beckoning him. He turned around and limped into the woods.

He had to move away. This place was a literal smoke signal to the cops.

He studied the address again. He couldn't go anywhere else and he had an open invitation.

"Might as well…" he huffed.

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Captain Lance was feeling cranky. A well-defined frown sat upon his face, deepening every time the car stopped at a red light. And his restlessness was growing as well, stemming from the kidnapping case he was following.

Currently, he was being driven in a police cruiser to the warehouse, regarding whose whereabouts he had been tipped about earlier. He leaned back into the seat and sighed.

 _God! This is a fucked up case._

"Oh God!" he cursed, as an incoming car shot it's main beam directly at his face. This had been happening for the passed half hour. The freeway was just a few miles away and they were still stuck in the city traffic, moving at snail's pace. And every time an incoming car shot it's beam on his face, giving him a headache.

 _No decency._

Traffic in Central city was a mess. Every stop and every honked horn were making him angrier and crankier. It was really surprising considering the fact that he had spent the majority of his career as a patrol officer, answering every call like a demented insomniac. But that had been almost fifteen years ago. Now he had gotten used to the luxury - personal car, swanky office and most importantly a precinct under him. Age and luxury had chipped away the tenacity and fervor he had before.

Now the stench of cheap leather upholstery, a day old half eaten bagel lying on the floor and the stubborn sweat odor was getting to him in a bad way. But he couldn't judge or call out on it. Back in the day, his car had been much worse - a self-generating trash pit was what others called it.

He looked at the rookie that was currently driving him to the warehouse. He and several others had accompanied him from Starling. He studied his face. There was not a sign of stress or anxiety on his face. He didn't even seem to flinch when the lights hit him. He had his emotions under check.

 _Young Blood._

It was really ironic that the rookie was calm and cool under this petty situation as compared to the veteran, considering the trivial amount of experience he had compared to him. He felt a pang of envy touch him regarding this young cops patience and perseverance. Sometimes he wished that he was young again.

 _At least, it would be easier to deal with the crazy problems of Starling._

He exhaled audibly again, willing the cars in front of him to move faster.

"You Ok sir?" asked the rookie. Apparently he had been watching him out of the corner of his eye too.

Lance was jolted out of his musing. He racked his brain, trying to remember the cop's name.

 _What was it? Marcus…no,no….Marvin…no..Melvin…Melvin._

"It's Melvin isn't it?" he asked, trying his hardest to be amiable.

Melvin's head snapped towards him briefly and nodded, "Yes, sir." , and then again turned back to look out the windshield.

Lance sighed and asked, "Why do you ask? Don't I seem Ok?"

Melvin glanced at him, briefly again, "You do sir…you do. But….it's just that you appear tense and…and you are tapping your feet incessantly….so that's why I wondered."

"Yeah…you are right. I am far from all right. This is a pretty messed up case and today has been a pretty long day and that coupled with no sleep, a four-hour journey to Central city, inhaling fumes and these stupid main beams falling on my face is really making this the best day of my life." fumed Lance.

Melvin chuckled at this as he effortlessly overtook a bike and a car.

"Yeah", he agreed. "At least, the girl is safe."

"Yeah…that's a relief."

He thought back to the shivering, vulnerable girl, all wrapped up in a blanket and nursing a hot cup of coffee, he found in CCPD. He had been shocked to see this, would have been putting it mildly. It had been like someone had played a practical joke on him.

He had been pretty tense and wary about this case. The Mayor's girl had been taken. He could relate to that. In fact he had been in the same situation many years ago, so he could sympathize. Those years had been pretty dark and blurry for him. He took to the bottle to find some reprieve from the harrowing truth that his daughter was dead. But in the recesses of his heart, he could never let go; he always held a sliver of hope that his little girl would return and he would get to hold her in his arms.

But those were bad memories which he didn't want to relive or didn't want anyone else to live through. He held this case close to his chest. So he had given the Mayor his guarantee on behalf of SCPD that he would find his daughter and return her to him.

So five hours ago he had barged into CCPD, hoping that he could get Captain Singh's help. It wasn't a major favor he had been hoping to ask, just the basic lay of the land. After all, he was encroaching on their territory. He had no jurisdiction, he couldn't arrest anyone here. So he had to meet with Singh and take permission to look around. After he received the tip regarding the warehouse, he had immediately taken off for Central city with a couple of men. The FBI were doing their investigation and he was doing his. He was also hoping that Singh could provide him with a few more men when he went to the warehouse.

So he had been more than surprised when he found the press and TV reporters milling and swarming in on him when he arrived outside CCPD. He was startled as they swarmed on him all of a sudden. They didn't even let him get up the steps leading to the precinct. Camera flashes went off as they shoved their recorders and mikes towards his face. They hurled questions at him all at once, which got muddled and lost amongst themselves. Then Captain Singh swiftly descended the steps, pushed passed the crowd of reporters and ushered him in. And once they had crossed the threshold, away from the prying eyes of the news scavengers, Singh told him about the new development.

Apparently they had found the girl or, to put it more precisely she had found them. An hour before he arrived, the girl had waltz into the station out of nowhere, whom the desk sergeant immediately recognized as her picture had been flashing all over the news. He immediately called the Captain who took her to his office and comforted her; he wrapped her up in a spare blanket and handed her a cup of coffee. According to Singh, she was surprisingly calm and quiet for someone who had been kidnapped, which he confirmed a few minutes later, although a persistent frown sat on her face which could be construed as confusion. Captain Singh informed him that he had had the medics take a look at her, who inferred that she was all right, at least physically.

Then he called home and informed the FBI that the girl had been found. There had been a five-second pause when they received the news. It seemed like they had been startled to have received the news. He couldn't blame them. He asked them to bring the Mayor and his wife over to Central City since they had already scheduled a press conference later in the evening. Another reason for asking them to come over was that the CCPD wanted to take credit for having found her, technically speaking. It was just politics, kind of like a publicity stunt. And he had no problem with that; what mattered was that the girl was safe.

For the next half hour, both Captain Singh and he tried to pry some vital information out of her.

 _"Margaret, did you see your kidnapper's face?"_

She had frowned at that and had gazed up at them dubiously.

 _"I was kidnapped?"_

She had been startled by their question and so were they, by her answer.

 _"Margaret, didn't you know that you had been kidnapped?"_

 _"No, I had no idea."_

 _"What's the last thing you remember?"_

 _"I remember finding myself two blocks from here all of a sudden."_

 _"Do you know how you got there?"_

Right, then he had noticed a slight change in her demeanor. She had twitched and her eyes had glazed over as though she was somewhere else altogether.

 _"The Arrow…..he saved me."_

 _"The Arrow? That mass murderer?"_

 _"No, not a mass murderer. The hero….he saved me. Got me out of that warehouse and told me to run….through the woods. So I ran…in between the bushes and the trees. It was getting dark and the trees were rustling and whispering. They were glaring at me angrily as though they had it out for me….it was scary. But I sprinted anyhow, tripping and scrambling until I reached the freeway. I could see the headlights zooming by from deep within the woods. So I waved down a van and got here…."_

 _"Where is this warehouse?"_

 _"In the woods….by the freeway."_

 _"Where exactly is it?"_

This had got her thinking. Her brows had furrowed, even more, forming an M.

 _"I don't know."_

 _"What did the person who drove you here look like?"_

 _"I don't know."_

 _"How could you not know? Did he speak English?"_

At that point, she had looked agitated. Her face had contorted and she had seemed to be on the verge of breaking into tears.

 _"I don't know….."_

 _"How is that possible?"_

 _"I don't know….I don't remember."_

She had looked distraught. It had seemed to him then that it was some kind of traumatic consequence that she was suffering from. So taking that into consideration, he had decided to hold back. It would be better to let the FBI do that.

 _"It's Ok Margaret. Everything is going to be all right. But I have one last question for you….You said that the last thing you remember is finding yourself two blocks from here, am I right?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"Then how do you know that it was the Arrow that saved you? I mean the kidnappers could have left you there, even if it seems unlikely."_

 _"I..uh…I…I don't know. I mean I know he was there. I didn't see him but…I can feel it that he was there. I can't explain it….but he was there…..he saved me…."_

To him, she had seemed disturbed and overwrought with herself as if trying to find the answers was straining her, and the strains had been showing on her face and eyes. So he let her be for the time being. Something had not been right with her answers; it didn't make sense.

It had befuddled him then and it was befuddling him now as he juggled with all the unanswered questions this case raised. Not having all the answers was leaving a sour taste in his mouth; he hated not knowing. This was seeming less and less like a conventional kidnapping by the minute. After all the Arrow was somehow involved with this, so it had to be unusual.

 _Fucking case!_

"Sir….Sir…you there?" asked Melvin, snapping him out of his musing.

They were still cruising at a snail's pace, weaving through the crowd of vehicles. They had still not exited the city.

"Yeah…yeah…I am here. I was just thinking about the case. What were you saying?"

"Just that it's going to be all right. We are going to catch them."

 _Apparently optimism dissolves with age._

"What makes you so sure?"

"Well…the Arrow's there. He is gonna catch them. I am sure of that."

He scoffed at that. "An Arrow sympathizer huh….I would never have guessed. At least not in the force."

"Oh no, sir…I am not a fan of his methods. I am just a fan of what he is trying to achieve. After all we are all trying to achieve the same thing, the only difference being that he beats criminals to a pulp and puts arrows in them."

"God knows what he is trying to achieve. The whole city is quivering under a blanket of trepidation. People are afraid of going out at night. And we, the police, have been able to do nothing about it. He is making a fool of us and the system. That's hardly an achievement."

"Sir, I agree with all you have to say. Everything. I believe he should be caught and tried for his crimes…..but the statistics speak otherwise sir. The crime rates have drastically reduced. Organized crime has gone down by 40%. He has been stopping everything…..drug and arms dealers, traffickers etc. Murderers, rapists, pedophiles, arsonists….you name it. He ran the Columbian drug cartel out of here. He has put criminals like Brick, the mayor and many other white collar criminals behind bars. There has been a bulky influx of perpetrators in Iron Heights since his arrival than before. I think he is a necessary evil."

"You seem to have given this a serious thought."

"I am hoping to make detective sir. I want to work homicide. They say that's where the real shit happens."

"I myself worked homicide for fifteen years. It is just a glorified job, nothing more. It isn't as satisfying as they make it out to be. You need to have a strong stomach and a knack for the freaky one's. It isn't easy."

"I am working hard sir. Keeping myself abreast with all the weird and unexplained cases in and around Starling city. Someday it will come in handy, I hope."

 _I like this kid's temperament._

" Ok, Melvin….you believe that the Arrow is doing good. I am gonna give you an instance and you are going to answer few questions based on that….Ok."

They turned a corner and sped forward, before having to stop at another red light.

He nodded. "Ok."

"Ok…listen very carefully. This is a hypothetical situation. You have made detective, let's say a year from now. You are working homicide. Ok. You just resolved a case. It was a back-breaking, shit storm creating case. It has been a really tough case for you. You have not slept for 48 hours. You feel like you will fall asleep just by standing. But just then you receive a call about another murder. The tip line says that it is gruesome and needs your immediate assistance. You can't refuse. So you drag your reluctant and protesting body to the crime scene. It's in an apartment. You enter it. The apartment is messy and wretched. It smells like shit and urine. Flies swarm around a half eaten burger which is lying on the table. There are bottles and syringes lying on the table beside it. So you realize that you are dealing with a junkie. We good so far?"

"Yeah…yeah…"

"Ok….then you hear a soft weeping coming from the kitchen. You enter it slowly, minding your surroundings and carefully maneuvering across the floor which is littered with broken pieces of glass. As soon as you enter the kitchen a burnt stench assaults your nose. It's sharp and it is tingling your senses. It is disgusting, almost gut-wrenching. But before you can determine where the burnt smell is coming from, your eyes fall on the weeping man slumped on the floor. This man is thin and gangly, his cheeks are hollow and his face is unnaturally pale. You go near him and immediately get a waft of alcohol from him. The man is weeping and making odd sounds….you realize from seeing his face that he is weeping from frustration, he wants something but can't get it. You shake him and ask him to get up and tell you what the hell is going on."

"And then suddenly he grabs onto your arm with this unnatural strength. It's almost inhuman that such a thin man could possess such strength. It is almost hurting you, but it doesn't. You look at his bloodshot eyes which are staring at you, begging unabashedly for something. You are startled so you pry this man's fingers off your arm and that is when you see it. Needle marks on his arms. This is a man dependent on cocaine. He is begging for his shot and weeping. You don't indulge junkies and you never have, so you extricate yourself from him and get up. You move deeper into the kitchen trying to find where that god-awful smell is coming from. And then you see the most dreadful thing in your life. Something which totally removes the faith you had in humanity. It makes you question everything you know about the law, about being a cop."

"What is it?" asked Melvin, clearly intrigued but also disturbed which was evident from the frown on his face.

"It's a kid, two years old maybe, microwaved to death. You can't even recognize it. It is melted. It looks like a slobbery lump of dough, no features recognizable. Your tiredness sprints out the window and you puke right there on the kitchen floor, in the crime scene. You don't even see it properly…just a glimpse but that is enough to haunt you for the rest of your life."

He sighed and looked at Melvin, who looked disturbed.

 _I hope he doesn't crash the car._

"Then after few minutes the unis, who were the first responders comes up and explains the whole situation to you. Apparently, this man, the junkie was the father of the child. He was out of money and drugs. He couldn't get his shot, so he was livid. And he couldn't feed his child. So this hungry child was weeping the whole day, screaming at the top of it's voice which seemed to have irritated this man. So in a fit of rage, this fucking monster put his own child in a microwave…..open and shut case right?"

The temperature seemed to have dropped drastically in the car. Melvin was disturbed by the story. There was a deep frown on his face and he was clenching the steering wheel hard.

"I am sorry sir…," Melvin whispered.

"For what?"

"For what you had to go through…"

He smiled on the inside.

 _This kid is smart. He has caught on._

"Ah..well it happens to everyone in the department. One case which seems to take things to the extreme. But I suppose I got the worst of it."

"So if you don't mind my asking, what did you do with the junkie?"

He sighed. "Something which I regret till today…..but you don't have to worry about that. Answer my questions…"

"Ok."

"What would you have done?"

"I would have emptied my magazine into his head." replied Melvin instantly.

He nodded. "Understandable. People like that don't deserve to live."

"But here's another question…what are you supposed to do as a cop?"

"As a cop…I am supposed to keep my emotions in check. No matter how degrading or aggravating the case is I am not supposed to make rash decisions. I am supposed to read him his Miranda rights and arrest him."

"That's correct. We are cops. We have the law as a training and guiding wheel. It is ingrained in us from day one. No one is above the law. What do you think the Arrow would have done?"

"What he deserved. Use him as target practice, snapped his neck….he would have let his creativity flow, I suppose."

"Exactly…don't you see. We basically are animals. We have always needed and will always need a governing body, a structure to keep our baser and viler instincts at bay. We are capable of so much cruelty, but it is the law which keeps us in check. It is the law which maintains the balance between right and wrong. The law saved me that night…No single man can delineate between right and wrong. The Arrow is taking the law into his own hands. He is asserting authority over us, over the nation. People say laws are shackles, I say laws are harnesses, which keeps us from falling deep into the wrong end. So trust me when I say this…the Arrow will be caught and he will answer for his crimes."

Silence filled the car again. There was no noise except for the roaring engine and the honking of the cars passing by.

He clapped Melvin on the back and said good-naturedly, "Relax kid….it got a little tense, but you needed to hear this. I hope I didn't ruin your dream of working homicide."

Melvin sighed. The frown still persisted on his face; his lips were pursed into a thin line. "No, sir you didn't. It's just that you gave me a lot to think about."

"Puft…don't overthink it, kid. You will have plenty of time to do it when you reach my age. Let me tell you..the secret to this job is to just go with the flow and if all seems lost, just wing it."

Melvin smirked.

Just then Lance's phone started ringing.

 _Who could it be?_

He put the phone to his ear. "Hello."

 _"It's Singh. We have a development and you are not gonna like it."_

 _Oh shit! What now?_

He listened intently to whatever Captain Singh poured into the receiver. The situation was grave now. His face was contorting by every second as Singh's words registered in his mind. The call, being one sided, continued for one and a half minute, and then he hung up.

"Shit!" cursed Lance.

"What?"

"We are in a serious shit storm. The warehouse is on fire."

"Damn! You think it's arson?"

"No idea. I mean arson has never been the Arrow's MO."

"Maybe it's the kidnappers…."

"I have no idea. This case is getting more twisted by every passing minute. Something is not right. We won't know until we get there. Light up the sirens and slam on the gas."

"Yes, sir."

Melvin lit up the siren as the loud blaring cut out the roar of the engine. It was annoying but necessary. And with an instant burst of speed, they sped towards the warehouse.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author's Note - As usual I would like to thank everyone for reading this story. And thank you for all the follows, favorites and the reviews.

Here is my next chapter as promised. I hope you liked it. And you also get an insight into Lance. This is just kind of a teaser as there is more of Lance to come. Lance is he one who blows the case wide open with the help of Melvin, inadvertently helping the Arrow. The next chapter is gonna be about Lance and we might get to see Iris. Regarding where Oliver is headed next, the hint is in chapter 5. There are many Lance fans here, so I sincerely hope that I was able to do justice with this portrayal of the character. I wanted to portray him as a ragged, hard-assed cop who has seen a lot. he is old fashioned and is having a hard time coping with the fast changing world. Vigilantes are old news now that there are super speed and super strength to wrap his head around.

I know that Oliver's escape from the warehouse seems outlandish. I don't even know if arrows can be shot with our teeth. I mean I saw it in The Dark Knight Returns, so I thought I could implement it here since his arm is broken. So if it offends anyone that I am not taking the archery thing seriously and making a caricature out of it, I sincerely apologize. It seemed like the only way under the circumstance.

On an entirely different note, since I am on holiday like everyone else, I got time to watch a lot of movies. So I recommend you to watch Sicario. it is an amazing movie. Watch Spotlight if you can. And I really liked a couple of romantic movies too. Watch One Small Hitch and One Day if you can. I really liked them.

Anyway, I will upload the next chapter in January I hope. In the meantime please drop reviews if you can. The more the better.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and a Happy new year!


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER - 14

Forty minutes later they swerved off the main road into the woods. But in the dark they couldn't find the wide trail which snaked through the sea of trees, to the warehouse; so they decided to walk the rest of the way.

Melvin parked the car at the mouth of the trees.

Just then Lance noticed two cars and a van already parked in a cluster just a few steps beside them. The cars weren't police cruisers; they looked like personal vehicles owned by civilians. The question about what civilian cars were doing here was answered by the van standing next to them.

The van was white in color and it had tinted windows. There was a small receiver mounted on the top of the van and the words 'Central City Picture News' ran across the body of the van in bright red.

He got out of the car and slammed the door angrily, "Bloody media…already here before the cops."

He was fuming again. The ride had been hard enough, and now he had to endure this.

"Come on…let's go and see what kind of mess has been brewing up.", he said and made his way in the general direction of the warehouse.

The night was clear and limpid. There were no clouds and the crescent moon was sitting comfortably on the sky, casting a light halo on the canopy. They had just entered the mouth of the woods, but could still make out the raging inferno far into the heart. He couldn't exactly see the warehouse since the ground wasn't level. Just forty feet in front of them the land rose slightly and then it fell. This slight elevation in the land was cutting off their line of sight, so he could only make out the reddish - orange hue which was lighting up the woods. The sky looked red directly above it, which softened into darkness. To him, it felt like walking through a dark tunnel, with the bright red glow being the light at the end.

So they walked silently, in between the tall and somber trees. The temperature had dropped drastically as if they had stepped into a freezer. The cold seeped through the thin cloth of his pants and into his legs. He shivered and stuffed his hands in his pocket. A light fog hung in the air, which made the scene look eerie. In spite of it all, they tread through the darkness carefully, minding their steps as they went forward. The ground was wet and dewy, so they pressed their feet hard on the ground, to avoid slipping.

They walked silently, rarely exchanging any words as they were concentrating on their footing. As they got deeper into the woods, they heard incoherent shouts and howling noises coming from beyond the mound.

 _Must be the fire department._

Captain Singh had already warned him that the fire department would be there by the time he got there. Since the fire was in the middle of the woods, there was a possibility that the fire could spread and the situation could escalate into something more grave and dangerous, hence the fast response. They ascended the mound as swiftly as possible; they had already lost a lot of precious time during the drive over. The burning warehouse lilted into view like the sun rising up from the horizon; it's luminosity brightening up the area, casting the trees in long scary shadows.

The warehouse had turned ashen black - a distant memory of the dilapidated structure which stood there. It was dead. The fire on the west side of the structure had been quenched. And there was nothing left of the thirty-foot structure, except for burnt, sooty debris lying on the ground. The firemen were still trying to control the fire raging on the east of the building, spraying it with their long, thick hoses. The firemen were hollering instructions at each other regarding the job. The fire trucks stood silently beside them with the lights on their heads flashing like Christmas lights.

And a little further away from the laboring firemen were six people huddled together, like penguins. A couple of them had cameras mounted on their shoulder. Journalists and reporters no doubt. He could make out their silhouette against the burning building as they most probably discussed and deliberated the gravity and the authenticity of the story they had stumbled upon.

They descended the mound and neared the break in the trees. They entered the clearing. As he got closer to the warehouse, he could feel the heat from the fire on his face and body, even though they were fifteen feet out. This sudden change in temperature made a feverish chill run down his spine.

As soon as the reporters saw them approaching they scuttled towards them like ants to sugar. They haphazardly shoved their mikes and recorders under his nose and trained the camera light on his face. He flinched and brought his hand up to shield his face.

"Captain Lance, is this the place where Margaret was being held?" one of them asked; he couldn't see the face in the dark.

"Captain Lance, can you tell us what exactly happened here?"

"Captain Lance, do you have any leads on the whereabouts of the kidnappers?"

"Captain Lance, there has been rumors flying around about the involvement of the vigilante Arrow. Can you confirm that?"

They all threw rapid - fire questions at him and expected him to answer all of them.

"Please people! I have just arrived and haven't even surveyed the scene. I am just gonna go and talk to the fire department. And I promise you, I will answer your questions after that. So till then, hold your horses."

Saying that, he didn't even wait to see their reaction. He briskly walked up to the scene. The heat was intensifying; it was almost burning up his face and the glare was practically blinding.

He walked up to the nearest fireman, tapped him on his shoulder to gain his attention.

"Who is the person-in-charge?", he had to yell because of the loud roar of the raging inferno and the sloshing of water gushing out of the hose.

The fireman pointed to his right, towards a man standing by the fire truck yelling instructions at another man.

He turned to Melvin, " You have a flashlight?"

"Yeah, in my trunk."

"Check the woods. See if you can find anything of use."

Melvin nodded and left.

So he turned and made a beeline for the person in charge.

The man was about six feet two, average build, well, average for a firefighter. He was a lot bulkier than Lance. He looked about the same age as him. He had a hard face, but the mustache made it amiable.

"Excuse me, I am Captain Lance from Starling City Police Department. You are the person in charge?"

The man squinted, as though he was rummaging through his mind trying to put the name and a face together. And then his brows straightened.

"Ah…yes, Captain Lance." , he stuck his hand out. " I am Matt. I am the one in - charge. Captain Singh told me to expect you and to give you anything you need."

Lance nodded, "I appreciate it."

"So….what's the situation here?", asked Lance.

"Ah..yes, walk with me, Captain. I will brief you through it."

So both of them made their way towards the warehouse, walking slowly. The fire was almost out, not quite, but almost. The heat was again prickling his skin.

"You do know this is a crime scene right?", asked Lance.

"Yes, I am aware of that."

"So do you think anything useful can be salvaged from a fire of this magnitude?"

"Since it was only an explosion, I think there may be a chance that some things might be salvageable. But not so much if it would have been an arson."

"Wait….this isn't arson?", asked a baffled Lance.

"No, it isn't. The fire caused by an arson is difficult to quench. It takes more time, so there is hardly anything salvageable. But this….this was an explosion for sure. The explosion happened maybe an hour ago, and we were here about twenty minutes before you arrived. And you can see that we have almost quenched the fire."

"Ok, Ok, the structure seems to have collapsed, though."

"Yes, like I told you, it was the explosion. The charges were set up in the lower level. You see the shattered glass pieces and debris over there by the mound-"

He pointed towards the little glass pieces and splintered and charred wood strewn across the wet leafy ground, at least, ten meters away from where they were standing. The broken glass pieces were shimmering against the fiery backdrop.

"Yes, there is not much, though."

"Yeah, the boys cleaned it up. But the point is that the explosion was very powerful, the glass shattered and the pieces were blasted about ten meters away. As a result of that, the walls on the lower level imploded and the whole structure collapsed."

"Ok…so how long before the whole fire is quenched?"

"Well, there was no accelerant used so the fire is under control. We will need another half hour to fully quench it, but the scene won't be accessible to you right away. You will have to wait till morning."

"Yeah, I believe Captain Singh will send the CSI unit first thing tomorrow morning. Ok, thanks for the update."

"You are welcome.", and then Matt turned around and returned to his boys.

Lance whipped out his phone and dialed Captain Singh number.

Captain Singh's curt voice greeted him five seconds later.

 _"Hello."_

"Singh, this is Lance speaking."

 _"How's the scene?"_

"There is nothing remaining. The place has been barbecued. I don't know if we can recover anything from this."

 _"Don't worry about that. I will send my CSI guy first thing tomorrow. He may be a tad ditzy, but if anyone can find a needle in a haystack it's him."_

"Ok, thanks.", he was satisfied with Singh's commitment to the case.

 _"The mayor will be here any moment. You and your boy should get down here as soon as possible. The press conference is gonna start in like a couple of hours."_

"Yeah, Ok. Send some of your boys to secure the scene. You know, the usual, set up the tape. And post a detail out by the freeway to keep an eye on it. We can't slack off."

 _"Ok, sure. I am gonna send them over right away."_

"Good, good. By the way, how's the girl? Any improvements?"

 _"Nope, she is just sitting there, staring at the wall. A doctor from Central Hospital should be here after the press conference to check up on her, both physically and mentally."_

"Ok…Ok, I am hanging up now. I will talk to you when I get there."

 _"Ok."_

And he hung up.

Lance looked around and spotted the group of reporters making their way towards him. Well, he had to go on the record eventually.

 _Might as well._

A woman came up to him. She was in her early twenties. She had dark hair, clear skin, and brown eyes, and he could discern only that much against the drab light. She was short, about five feet six, but her short stature couldn't hold a candle to how she handled herself. She seems confident in her own skin.

"Captain Lance. I am Iris West from the Central City Picture News. I -"

A bell went off in his head.

"You are Joe's daughter. Joe West?", he asked.

She smiled. "Yes, sir. You met him?"

"Yeah, he came down to Starling City some time back. He was working on a cold case. That's when he mentioned you."

"Well, I am not surprised. But keeping those aside sir, I was wondering if I could ask you about the situation here."

 _Straight to business._

She clicked on the recorder in her hand and held it up between them like a candle.

"Well, to answer your question Miss West, the situation here is exactly as you see it. The girl has been miraculously found by the CCPD, for which we are immensely grateful. We believe that this is where she was being held hostage."

"Who do you think torched this place? Do you have any idea?"

"We have no idea. Well, my first guess would be the kidnappers, but I have not, ever, heard about kidnappers having this kind of MO. Maybe it's a new crew in town. But that's all conjecture. Unless and until we comb through the place tomorrow and get any kind of concrete evidence which incriminates a certain party or individual, we can only speculate. But speculation leads to panic, so try not to print that."

"How close are you to catching those responsible?" asked Iris.

"As I just said, we have no evidence, no clue that would point us to one direction or the other. The shit just hit the fan lady, and we won't know what caused it till the cleaning crew gets in tomorrow. This warehouse is the only lead we have so far, and we are gonna dive into it tomorrow. And for the record, we are not gonna rest until the criminals are brought to justice." said Lance.

"One last question Captain. There has been a rumor flying around, about the involvement of the Arrow. He is very protective of Starling City, as his actions have so often said. And this, being a high profile kidnapping of the Starling City mayor's daughter, well, let's just say that it was incumbent on his part to get involved."

There was a pause as she looked expectantly at him.

"Oh I'm sorry, but I don't hear a question there."

"What I am asking you, is if you can confirm the involvement of the Arrow and if he is working with you on this?"

He sighed. This was a sensitive tropic she was about to broach, but it was inevitable. He could only keep the lid on that particular can of worms for so long.

"Like I said before Miss West, we can neither confirm nor deny anyone's involvement in this unless and until we scrounge around for clues in that mess over there. And regarding the Arrow working with the SCPD, I would recommend that you keep us away from that trash. We don't want to be entangled or associated with certain kinds of individual and the Arrow is on top of that list. So now, before this gets any more heated, I will bid you farewell as I have a press conference to attend."

If he knew his daughter well, then he would know that his daughter was both tenacious and as stubborn as a bull. She never backed down without a fight. And the next moment proved that Iris was just like his daughter.

She wasn't backing off easy.

"I'm sorry to say this Captain, but you are already entangled with the vigilante. If you didn't want that, then you wouldn't have gotten into bed with him in the first place. You have worked with him before, haven't you?"

 _Woh! She doesn't hold back._

He was impressed by her tenor and her fearlessness, but he didn't have time to deal with it.

"Listen Miss West, the only thing you need to know about the vigilante is that he is a mass murderer and a criminal. He has spread panic and fear all around Starling like wildfire. You don't live there, so you don't know what we go through. Even the cops hesitate to go out at night. He is like the boogeyman, waiting in the dark and killing anyone that comes in his way. He is unpredictable and psychopath. We are doing everything we can to capture him and once we do that I am gonna make sure that he gets the needle."

"And regarding what you said about us working with him once, well, he played us. He lulled us into a false sense of security so that we would let our guards down and trust him, and I did. I thought him to be an ally. But he betrayed our trust and started killing people. I hope that answers your questions. Print that in bold letters…..Now if you will excuse me I have to be somewhere else."

He was about to move away when Iris stopped him again.

What was wrong with this girl?

"Wait sir….I'm sorry if I upset you, but I would really appreciate it if you would answer this one last question."

He sighed.

"Fine….shoot."

"Okay…sir, you are a respected and a decorated cop. Your career record is impeccable. You have worked high profile cases and produced results. Half the murderers, rapists are in Iron Heights because of you. You have worked the whole circuit, know your way around the minds of the killers and the rapists, how they think, how they function, the whole nine yards….so how is it that the Arrow, whom you dubbed a criminal, lulled you into this _false sense of security,_ if you, an intelligent and decorated cop, didn't allow it to happen in the first place? I mean you must have offered him bread in the first place to have him dine with you? How did the Arrow manage to hoodwink a whole department of Starling's finest?"

 _And there goes my jugular. She just ripped it out of my throat._

He had to admire her. She was tenacious, fiery and that untapped vehemence was just oozing out of her. It wouldn't be long before she had dirt on all the politicians in town.

But this also made him angry, mostly at himself, for having been turned mum by a girl half his age.

So he answered after a good thirty second.

"Fuck it….I'm gonna plead the fifth on that. Print whatever the hell you want. I'm out of here."

And without looking back he turned and made his way towards the woods, but unfortunately, the rest of the group swarmed up on him and started asking the same questions that Iris had moments ago. He answered them as briefly as astutely and as briefly as possible, trying to keep his emotions in check and skirting around the more sensitive topic of the vigilante's involvement.

So after about five minutes of answering their questions, he extricated himself from them and made his way into the woods, towards the car. Then he remembered that Melvin had driven him here.

He pulled his phone out and called Melvin.

He picked up on the second ring.

 _"Hello."_

"Melvin, it's Captain Lance. Did you find anything?"

 _"Nope, I can't see shit in the dark, even with the flashlight. This has to be done in the light of day.",_

He sounded annoyed and agitated.

"Ok, well, forget about it. Get back to the car. We need to get back for the press conference."

 _"Ok, I am on my way."_

And he hung up.

Lance slipped his phone into his pocket and made his way into the assembly of tall trees. He ascended the mound and then disappeared into the darkness.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sarah Hawke was exhausted. She was beaten. After this weird and long day, she felt like a loose and torn rubber band - flaccid and unresponsive. Her feet were killing her. She could feel the tiredness pulling her down, as she stood impatiently outside her door, waiting for the babysitter to open it.

In the throes of her lassitude, all she wanted to do right now was take a long and hot shower and then pass out on the couch watching TV.

And this comforting thought had just popped into her head when she heard the soft but rapid staccato of footsteps, from the other side, approaching the door. It was the babysitter.

She cracked the door wide open with a jovial smile, something that she couldn't reciprocate under the circumstance. It was slightly irritating for her, but she couldn't exactly snap at the seventeen-year-old girl who babysat her child. It would be like shooting oneself in the foot.

"Miss Hawke, you are late tonight? Lots of patients?"

She crossed the threshold and toed her shoes off.

"Yeah, Karen. It was a long and weird day, and I am tired…." , remarked Sarah.

"Yeah, you don't say."

She crossed the foyer and entered into her dimly lit living room. The first thing she noticed was that the TV was on. And the light from the TV danced across the walls and the couch. The walls looked a subtle shade of blue against the light coming from the TV and the table lamp standing beside the couch. The couch looked messy, a far cry from how she had left it in the morning. The cushions had been bunched up against the armrest, implying that Karen must have laid down on it while watching TV. She couldn't really blame her; babysitting was a boring job. Compared to kids her age, she was a saint. That's why she could trust Connor with her.

She dropped her bag on the couch and plopped down on it. Her attention went to the center table in front of her. There was a soda can, a book with it's pages staring up at the ceiling, a notebook and a pen on top of it.

She unconsciously started massaging the annoying ache off her foot.

"You have a test tomorrow Karen?"

"Yeah, Miss Hawke. Math's getting tougher." , she quipped.

"So…could you get any work done with the TV on?" , Sarah teased.

Karen padded to the center table and collected her books and dropped it inside her bag.

"I just turned it on like five minutes before you arrived because of the news. Didn't you hear? They got the girl."

"Which girl? The Mayor's daughter?"

Karen nodded violently, as she picked up her empty soda can, "Yes. I was just watching the press conference that the Starling City mayor held."

Sarah turned her wavering attention to the TV, although after such a long day, like the one she had, the last thing she wanted to do was watch the news.

Karen picked up the remote from the table and cranked up the volume, as the old, bespectacled newsreader's voice came alive.

 _" - the brave and astute police work by the CCPD returned the kidnapped Mayor's daughter back to her parents. In the press conference that was held today in Central City, the Starling City Mayor expressed his deep gratitude towards the CCPD. He even went on to say that he was forever indebted to the CCPD, and wished that every city had such capable policemen at their disposal, which we believe was a dry and subtle jibe aimed at his own police force, which for years have been_ _leading a vain man-hunt to capture a vigilante."_

 _"According to the police commissioner of Central City, the girl was being held in a warehouse about 5 miles north of Central City. The CCPD put their collective heads together with the SCPD and the FBI and tracked down the location of the warehouse. A joint task force arrived on site to find the girl standing outside, with the warehouse ablaze. Apparently there was no sign of the kidnappers; either they went up in the flame or escaped. The police are still looking for the culprit."_

 _"The brave, young girl, however, had an interesting story to tell. According to her, it was, in fact, the Starling City's notorious vigilante, the Arrow, who saved her. She said that the Arrow brought her outside and went inside the warehouse to capture the kidnappers, but never came out. Few minutes later the task force arrived and found the warehouse ablaze. She said that the Arrow was, in fact, a hero and that she is grateful to him."_

 _"The police commissioner of Central City said that they wouldn't be able to confirm her story until they found veritable proof corroborating to it in the charred remains of the warehouse. The warehouse, however -"_

Sarah switched off the TV. Enough was enough.

"Hey! it was getting interesting right there…" complained Karen.

"Well, we heard the important bits. The girl is safe and with her family. We don't need to hear the bits about the Arrow. At least not around Connor."

"Connor's in the bath. And besides, you heard how the Arrow saved the girl."

"I did. But he is bad news, just like the city. Trust me nothing good happens in Starling City. If your are lucky you escape, like I did, before the depression and the darkness sucks you in."

"I know….but on the bright side you turned out all right and so did I considering where I was born.", quipped Karen.

Sarah nodded, "Yup, Gotham's no fun place to be around either. Anyway…enough with that, now go home and study. It's late and your mom will be worried, what with all the kidnappings going on. I will pay you tomorrow."

"OK….I will be off now. Say goodbye to Connor for me. I will see you tomorrow." , then she shouldered her bag and went out the door.

Sarah sighed and plopped down on the couch, thinking about the Mayor's daughter. It was indeed a nasty business, this kidnapping. She couldn't fathom how someone could take away a child and exploit this pure relationship between a parent and a child for money. She didn't want to imagine herself in this same situation. In fact just thinking about it filled her with dread. She would most probably die if anything were to happen to Connor.

She heard the bathroom door in Connor's room slam.

 _Connor._

She pushed herself off the couch and went looking for her eight-year-old son.

"Connor…honey…..I am home….."

She pushed open the door to his room and walked in. And she was met by a pair of emerald eyes, which were immediately suffused with happiness.

"Mom…you are home!"

Then he ran up to her and hugged her, clinging hard to her midriff.

She hugged him back and ran her fingers through his moist hair.

She sighed loudly. These were the moments she lived for. The contentment that was coursing through her right that moment, hugging her son, was ineffable. There wasn't anywhere on earth she would rather be in that moment.

Then she felt her son tremble lightly in her arms. She immediately tensed, as concern immediately sprung in her chest. Something was wrong. She crouched down and cupped his face.

"Baby…what's wrong?", she asked delicately.

His eyes were filled with unshed tears, and his lips were trembling.

"Connor, honey, what is it? Tell me. Did something happen at school?" , she probed again.

This was really unusual for him. One moment he was happy to see her and the next he was quivering in her arms. He was a silent boy, never bothered anyway, always went about with his own business. He was kind of a model child. When she was pregnant with him, people had been kind enough to inform her that the real trouble began after the delivery; and she being a single parent would have double the trouble on her hands.

But if truth be told that was not the case. When the nurse handed him to her ever so gently, he had not brought the room down with his endless screaming. In fact, he had not screamed at all. He had simply stared at her, from within the cloth that the nurse had tucked him in, with his big emerald eyes, and in that instance she had fallen in love with him.

She would not be exaggerating if she said that he didn't give her any kind of trouble, which was unusual for a child his age. He didn't display any kind of mood swings. He never threw an angry tantrum. But one thing she had trouble conciliating with was that he would go hours without talking to anyone. He would sit in one corner and go about his business. Sometimes she found it quite intimidating. She, being a shrink, delved into the psyche of her patients every day, and cured them of their mental despair. But when it came to her son, she was as helpless as the next person.

So she found this sudden upheaval of emotion slightly worrying and disconcerting.

She caressed his cheeks softly, coaxing him subtly to tell her what was wrong. His young face was corrugated in a frown; he was trying to keep the tears from falling but in spite of all his doggedness, a single rebellious tear broke through his fortified defense and slid down his cheek. And a few seconds later it's brothers and sisters followed.

She wiped the tears away.

"Baby….you are acting strangely. What's going on?"

He looked at her with those shimmering green eyes of his and said, "Mom…don't ever marry okay…."

His voice was small and quivering, but what she was more concerned about was what he said to her.

She frowned.

"Connor…where is this coming from?" , she asked.

"Mark's mommy married his new dad last year, and they brought home a newborn brother last week. Now his parents always play with his brother and not him. He told me that the baby was ugly and always crying and that his mom doesn't love him anymore…So I don't want you to marry and have a new baby. Then you will forget about me and not love me anymore.", he sobbed.

It broke her heart as she hugged him to her.

"It's Ok, Connor. I am never going to stop loving you, even when you are old and have a white flowing beard. You are my first born…..my heart. How can I stop loving you? And even if I marry, you will always come first. You are special Connor. You were a gift to me from your father."

The sobbing subsided slightly.

"Promise?", he asked, his voice was brimming with insecurity.

"I promise…Okay"

She felt him nodding against her shoulder. She was sad that her son would never get the complete family experience that she had. There would always be a wide taunting vacuum sitting beside them, no matter how happy they were.

"Mom?"

"Hmm…"

"Do you know where my dad is?" asked Connor.

She closed her eyes. He had asked that one question that every fatherless or motherless child asked their single parent, once in their childhood. It was inevitable. In fact, it was almost a coincidence that he asked her this question on the day she asked his father-

Her eyes widened.

 _Oh shit! I totally forgot. I invited Oliver over._

She carefully peeled him off of her and asked, "Connor, did anyone come by when I was at work?"

He frowned and shook his head in negation.

 _Ok, that's a relief. He hasn't come yet. It's only nine. There's still time._

She looked at Connor, the only remaining link she had to the life that she had left behind. His tears had dried off, but his eyes were a little red and puffy.

 _Should I do it? I would really be playing with fire here if he doesn't show up._

She glanced at her son again, and the ingenuous look that he gave her tugged at her heartstrings.

 _Oh! What the heck!_

"Connor….how would you feel if I told you that your dad was coming here to see you right now?", she asked.

His eyes widened and the brows jumped north.

"He is coming now….", his voice brimming with wonder.

"Yes."

"But I have to go to bed now."

She smiled at that.

"I think we can stay up a little late tonight."

His lips spread and widened into a bright and happy smile.

"Do you think he will take me to my soccer game next week?", he asked hopefully.

"I don't know little man; maybe you can ask him when he gets here.", and she ruffled his hair.

He looked satisfied with her answer.

Then as soon as she pushed up from the crouched position, she heard a loud crash come from outside Connor's room. It sounded like glass shattering somewhere inside the apartment.

She immediately bolted out of Connor's room into the living room looking for the broken glass pieces, with Connor pattering hurriedly behind her. The living room looked undisturbed.

But she was sure she heard the sound of shattering glass.

Then she cautiously moved towards her bedroom, remembering that one of the windows there led to the fire escape. She kept Connor safety tucked behind her as she approached her room.

She pushed open her bedroom door and flicked on the lights.

She crossed the threshold and surveyed her room. It wasn't much bigger than Connor's, but it was enough for her. Right across the room was her bed, which was pushed against the wall. On the left of the bed was the window which led to the fire escape, and right now her attention was trained on that window.

The glass pane was shattered, and there were glass pieces everywhere - on the floor, on the bed.

"Shit!", she muttered.

She looked at her son.

"Connor stay here, don't come inside, okay. There is broken glass everywhere. You will cut yourself."

She moved towards the window to inspect it. She swerved around the bed, stepped around the strewn glass pieces and reached the window.

She looked out the window and what she saw made her heart jump to her throat.

"Holy shit!", she swore loudly.

There was a semi-nude man lying face down on the fire escape. There were scars and blood stains all over his back. But in spite of that, she knew that the man wasn't dead because he was struggling to push himself up. She could hear him groaning and grunting.

On seeing this, the first thought that entered her mind was fear, not for her own self but for her child. There was a semi-nude man marred all over with blood, whose intentions she knew not, lying face down on the fire escape. She had to protect her child. And she didn't want to get entangled in any kind of nasty business.

 _I need to call the cops._

"Connor…go bring my phone from my bag. It's on the couch."

She watched him race away from the door. She swiveled around and looked out the window again.

The man was still struggling to get up. It was pretty dark outside, but the light from her room was enough. She couldn't help but notice that the man was well built and muscled. She could count the muscle cuts as they danced on his back. But what caught her eye more were the cuts, bruises and scorch marks on his back.

Then suddenly the man started to crawl towards the window, all the while groaning and grunting. She couldn't see his face; it was hidden in the shadow.

"Hey! Stay back! Or I'm gonna call the cops.", she warned the man.

But this didn't deter the man; he crawled forward and raised his hand to grab onto the ledge of the window.

And that was when she saw it.

There was something scribbled on the palm of his outstretched hand. She was sure of it; it even looked like her penmanship.

 _But surely it couldn't be, could it?_

"Oliver…..", she breathed, hoping against all hope that it wasn't him.

Then the man looked up at her and her heart stopped.

It was him alright, but he looked nothing like the man she had coffee with in the morning.

This was a more drab and raw version of Oliver. There was no color left on his face; it was utterly pallid. It looked like he had aged a hundred years in the matter of half a day. His eyes were squinted. He was sporting a nasty bruise on his jaw and there was blood on his forehead. The veins on his neck were taut to the point that they looked like tightropes used in circuses.

"Mommy…take the phone…"

Connor was back in the room. This was really a bad situation.

She turned around and looked at Connor.

"Connor, honey, go to the living room and sit on the couch. Don't come until I call you, Ok."

Connor didn't have any idea what was going on, but he knew that something wasn't right. He looked almost reluctant to leave her alone, but he acceded in the end.

She turned back to Oliver, reached out the window and grabbed hold of his arm. It was sweaty and slippery. She tightened her grip and pulled, and even in his severe state of lassitude Oliver did most of the work.

So after about ten minutes of physical labor, the likes of which she had never done before in her life, she had him placed on her bed. She had noticed his wounds. There were a countless number of bruises and cuts, but those weren't lethal. What worried her most were the bullet wounds on his back. She had to call the doctor.

Oliver was lying face down on her bed. He was looking worse every minute. His breathing was getting shallow and he was groaning in pain.

She bent down, "Oliver….don't sleep okay. I am calling the doctors. You need to stay conscious."

She had watched enough episodes of 'Law and Order' to know what to say to a gunshot victim.

She got up and was about to go to her phone when Oliver's arm shot out and grasped hold of her wrist. Her neck snapped back to look at him. She couldn't help but marvel at the size of his arm; her arm looked like a pencil in his large and calloused hand.

She glanced at his face; his eyes were wide and his mouth was moving. He was trying to say something but was barely making any sound.

She leaned in closer to his mouth and listened to what he had to say for a couple of minutes. Then she got up, ready to follow what he had asked her.

"Just hold on Oliver, I am going to get help. Don't die on me. Your son needs you.", she whispered to him. She didn't know if he heard her or not; in fact, she didn't care. Right that moment, all she knew was that the father of her child was dying, and she would do anything to save him, including the task that Oliver asked her to do.

She bolted out of her room, and called her son, "Connor…..get dressed quickly. We are going out."

She heard the padding feet of Conner enter his room. That's one more thing she loved about him; he was really obedient. And that obedience was compounded by the dire situation that they found themselves in. He was a really sensible and sensitive child, and he always molded himself to her feelings and emotions.

She put on her jacket, picked up her bag and waited for Connor in the foyer. He scrambled out of his room, all dressed up. He slid his foot in the shoe and looked up at her.

"Where are we going, mommy?"

She slid her feet into her shoe and answered, "To get help."

"For whom?"

She sighed. Well, she had to answer him anyway.

"I will tell you in the car honey. Now let's hurry."

She picked up her car keys, got out the main door and locked the door behind her.

Then they made their way to her car.

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Author's note - As usual I would like to thank everyone for reading this story. And thank you for all the follows, favorites and the reviews.

Here is the next chapter as promised. I know it took a long time for me to upload it. I have been really busy with exams and there were a couple of other things which were keeping me occupied. I am working on an article for an online newspaper and have been thinking about making a short film. So I was playing around with a few ideas for the script. So considering this, I might have to cut back on the writing if I am to juggle all three at once.

I hope you are happy with this chapter. I promised to bring in Iris and I hoped that I have succeeded in showing her tenacity and vehemence. She somehow ended up pissing Lance off and squeezed answers out of him like a sponge.

Then comes the part about Sarah and Connor Hawke. I hope I have been able to do justice to that. I wanted to show Connor as timid and docile, with a part of him that is latent and suppressed; something which will burst out with a vengeance later in his life.

So I will hopefully upload the next chapter on February if I am not swamped with work.

And please drop a review; it's like giving water to a thirsty man.

Happy New Year…..


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Felicity was on the brink of a breakdown. Exhaustion was smothering her. Her body had given up and her insides had gone cold. It was as if the ground beneath her had shifted.

 _This isn't happening again._

She was in the cave, sitting on her swiveling chair, in front of the desktop monitor. The light from the desktop fell on her face, as she stared at the monitor without blinking. But she wasn't really listening. Her eyes had glazed over. She was a million miles away, in her own safe place, trying to come to terms with the harrowing news. The news reader was blabbering away on the screen, but to her it was only faint noises which could hardly be construed into anything legible.

 _Oliver is dead._

That was what Diggle said the moment she entered the cave. She was angry at him first because he had just chucked the news at her, which had the same equivalence of a grenade, without softening it up a bit. He had just bowled her over. Then once the penny had dropped and the news had sunk in, she somehow made her way to her desk and collapsed on the chair.

And she had been there ever since. And that was an hour ago.

Now all of a sudden she was thirsty. Her throat was dry and constricting. She was parched. She pushed off the chair and moved towards a bottle which was perched on the table.

"Felicity…." , called Diggle, who had a frown on his face. He, for the last one hour had been standing on the opposite end of the room, staring at the big screen, which was playing the press conference on a loop.

She lifted her hand up at him, prompting him to keep quiet. Then she lifted the bottle from the table, broke the seal and chugged it down.

 _Ah! Heaven._

Chilled, air-conditioned water swirled in her mouth and slid down her dry throat, soothing the irritation and quenching her thirst. She drank for about fifteen seconds and then carefully placed the bottle back on the table. The bottle was half empty now.

"Felicity?", Diggle called again.

She looked across the room at him. The frown still sat stubbornly on his face. He walked towards her and stood at the opposite end of the table.

"Felicity….are you Ok?"

 _The million dollar question._

She didn't know how to answer that. Truthfully, there was a myriad of emotions eddying inside of her, and she was having trouble grasping onto one and trying to ascertain what it was. It was like trying to grab hold of a leaf floating in the wind.

"I don't know, John. Everything is so messed up….", she answered truthfully.

Diggle sighed, "Yes, it is."

"I am a computer engineer John. My life consists of numbers and codes. Even my brain works like a computer now, crunching every information that it receives. Permuting the datas, factoring in the options and then ascertaining the best possible solution…So on hearing this news…..my mind started crunching the datas, all the possibilities. And considering that he has returned to us before, my mind is telling me that he isn't dead…..He will return to us." said Felicity.

"And what does your heart say?"

"My heart is the weakest. It gets easily encumbered by fear. There is no way that I can quell it. Right now my heart is pounding away relentlessly, infusing me with terror that maybe this is it…..maybe this is the time that he doesn't return."

"I understand what you are saying Felicity. The age-old conflict between the heart and the brain. One passionate and the other rational. Which one do we listen to?"

"But I am hopeful John. He is okay. I can feel it."

"I wish I could share your optimism. Something is wrong. Why hasn't he contacted us yet?"

"I don't know. Maybe he is in some kind of a pickle. But that doesn't necessarily mean that he isn't alive. And they said on the news that it is not substantial. It is only speculations based on the mumblings of the girl who just escaped from the clutches of her kidnappers."

"But they also said that when they rescued the girl the warehouse was already on fire. Oliver is many things Felicity, but fireproof isn't one of them."

"I don't know John. I am as much in the dark as you. Now I am not even sure if Oliver went to the warehouse in the first place. There are only a few threads hanging in the dark John, and I can't even see them so that I could, at least, unravel the mystery."

Diggle rubbed his forehead irritatingly. He hated not knowing. And whenever they were dealing with anything _'Oliver' ,_ they would always remain in the dark. It was really infuriating.

"Where are Laurel and Roy? We should bring them in and tell them.", said Diggle.

"I already called them in. They were keeping an eye out for any Arrow impersonators, but I suppose Starling can survive one night without our protection. They should be here in about twenty minutes. And what should we do in the meantime? Because I don't think I can sit still for another second."

Diggle went quiet; his brows furrowed. It looked like he was doing some quick thinking. Aligning situations and anticipating their outcomes, and then choosing that particular prognosis that would yield the most fruitful result. It was really about permutation and combination, something Felicity was well versed in.

"We should call Barry.", said Diggle.

"I agree, but what can he do now? He, most certainly, can't zip around Central City trying to locate Oliver. It is exhaustive, even for Barry."

"I know, but they are gonna investigate the wreckage tomorrow, looking for clues. So who better than Barry? He is CSI. He could get down there early tomorrow before the cops arrive on the scene and check it out."

"You-

A shrill noise rang across the room interrupting them. Felicity turned around to locate the source. It was her phone.

She lifted it up off the table and looked at the caller ID.

"Who is it?", Diggle asked.

"Speak of the devil. It's Barry." she said.

She tapped on the receive button and put the phone on speaker.

"Barry."

 _"Felicity. Sorry for calling so late, but I had to know. Is it true? About what they are saying on the news. Is it true about Oliver?"_

She sighed. This was going to be difficult.

"I don't know if he is dead, but he is missing."

 _"So…he was here. In Central City that is?"_

"Yes."

 _"What for?"_

"A lead pertinent to the kidnapping of the girl. It was just a reconnaissance mission. The lead was weak and we didn't expect to find anything at all. But now if his disappearance is any proof, then I believe that he struck gold. He found something there along with the girl."

 _"So you guys have no clue regarding his whereabouts?"_

"Nope."

 _"Can't you ping his phone and determine it? Like from where he was last seen?"_

"He checked in at around late afternoon before entering the warehouse, and soon after that the signal vanished. It's been almost eight hours since.", she said.

 _"Shit….why wouldn't he call me? I could have helped. Why wouldn't you guys call me?"_

"Barry…you know how Oliver is? He is as stubborn as a bull. Once he sets his mind on something he doesn't budge. He told us explicitly to not call you."

 _"Man…Oliver and his ego….I would have been there in a flash to help him."_

"He said the exact same thing, and that is why he didn't want to call you."

 _"That has got to be the dumbest reason ever…"_

"Well..that's Oliver for you. He is dumb but he means well", summed up Felicity.

 _"You guys have any theories about what happened to him? Any way to contact him?"_

"I don't know Barry. The same thing has happened before and he has returned back. But still, there is a part of me that can't help but worry….worry that this time he won't come back.", she confessed.

 _"You can't think like that Felicity. He is strong. He will return. But in the meantime, is there anything I can do?"_

"Yes, I was meaning to call you. The cops are going to look for clues in the wreckage. You are CSI Barry. You will be accompanying them tomorrow. So if you find anything that will lead to the discovery of Oliver's identity I want you to remove it."

 _"You are asking me to tamper with evidence. Felicity, that's a crime!"_

"Barry, I would never ask you to do that. But Oliver is not a criminal. So it has to be done. Destroy anything that may lead to Oliver. Blood, tissue samples, anything. I don't have to tell you the ramifications of his identity being divulged. It will be disastrous for all of us and the Queen family name."

 _"Yes, I get that. But what if I destroy the blood and the tissues of the perps along with his too? I mean I won't know it is Oliver's until I have it tested. And if I test it, then it will be entered into the database. There will be a record, a paper trail. It's risky."_

"That's a risk we have to take Barry. Do what you have to do. If Oliver returns he will owe you big time for this. But by any luck you won't even discover anything there. Maybe all of this just a fallacy."

 _"Yes, I agree, Felicity. Whatever may have happened, I believe that he is still alive. And he must have a good reason to have severed contact. And if we do find blood there, I will whisk it out of there and have Cisco run it at STAR Labs. That way it will be safe."_

"Ok…thanks. And ask Cisco to run the facial recognition software across all the city cameras. That way we will find Oliver sooner if he is out there.."

 _"Ok, I will. And I will call tomorrow with the information. Take care. Bye."_

"Bye."

And she was met with the hollow noise from the other end.

She tossed her phone back on the table. It clanked loudly.

"Well, we have got that covered now. So all we can do is wait." said Diggle.

 _Waiting._

She hated that. It made her fidgety, and the perpetual stillness in that time unnerved her. But there wasn't any option now. Time was everything.

So she sighed and went back to her chair and plopped down on it.

Because, in the meantime, she had a city to look after.

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Sarah slammed hard on the gas as her car shot forward into the empty road. She had been driving for about half an hour, and if the address that Oliver gave to her was accurate then she was only about ten minutes away from her destination.

The address was for an apartment located in the west of Central City, a part of the city that she had never been to. It was one of the posher areas of the city; this was were all the movie stars and the music producers lived. No wonder Oliver had connections there.

The road was quiet and the traffic was light. It was about ten-thirty. People were mostly in bed or else watching the news sitting comfortably on the couch. And she was out here driving like a manic, trying to find the address given to her by the estranged father of her child.

Almost nine years had passed since she moved to Central City to get away from the ghosts haunting her. And now that same ghost had come back to haunt her.

Her thoughts went out to the father of her child. When she had found him naked on the fire escape, all bruised and battered, she didn't have time to comprehend the situation. And now it was sinking in slowly. Her mind was coping with the news and she couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the status quo of the issue.

 _Fuck!_

She was scared shitless. Both for herself and Connor. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Oliver is the Arrow. He is a killer and a murderer, but somehow that wasn't what scared her. She knew that for a fact that he wouldn't harm them.

What scared her was the emotional and psychological baggage that he would bring. She had always wanted Connor to know his father, but now she wasn't sure anymore. There was no way to sugarcoat it. Oliver's lifestyle was in no way congruent with theirs. It was not a feasible atmosphere for raising a kid.

If the bullet wounds and the bruise were any indications, then she would say that he was in a shitload of trouble, and she was wary of the kind of trouble that he would bring to their doorstep.

But she would cross that bridge when it came. Right now her priority was to save the father of her child.

She took a right and barreled forward again. Empty road marched on endlessly. Buildings ran alongside them, on both sides of the road. To her, it seemed that the architects had spent a lot more time and resources planing for these apartments than they had for hers. They were modern, huge and swanky, with intricate carvings and ornate detailing. She didn't want to know what the rent of a double bedroom apartment would be.

She looked at the rearview mirror to check on Connor. He was seated on the right side of the back seat, but she couldn't make out his faces as it was engulfed by the darkness.

He had been quiet till now.

"Connor?", she called.

"Hmmm….", came his faint voice.

"You awake?" , she asked.

"Yes….." , he replied.

"What are you doing?"

There was silence for a few seconds, and then, "Looking out the window. The buildings are beautiful…."

"Yes, they are.", she agreed.

Again the cold silence descended in the car, which was only diffused by the soft hum of the engine.

She rolled down her window and looked out at the buildings, trying to find the right one.

 _The address he gave me should be close by._

"Mom?" , came Connor's faint voice from the backseat.

"Yes?"

"Who was that man?", he asked.

She sighed. This talk between them was pending and inevitable. Conner was nine years old now. To the rest of the world he was young and incapable of making his own decision. But the thing about being raised by a single parent was that the one tended to grow up faster. She believed that he was capable of making his own decisions and had the right to know about his father.

"Connor, honey, I am going to tell you something. Something that you had been wondering about for a long time.", she said.

"What?", he asked.

"The man that you asked me about….Connor, that man is your father." , she said.

She heard a sharp intake of breathe and a slight shuffle from the back.

"My father?"

"Yes." , she affirmed.

"But I thought I did not have a father. That is why you are not married isn't it?", said Connor softly.

"No, Connor. That's not it. You have a father, but the thing is that he was away."

"So now he is back?"

"Well sort of…." , she said.

"So are you going to marry him?"

She sighed. That was the deepest desire of any child with a single parent - to see both their parents together. Maybe that happened in fairy tales, but this was real life, and it certainly wasn't going to happen.

Back in the day when she was pregnant with Connor, she had entertained the idea that she would get married to Oliver and they would raise a family together. But that dream had burst like a balloon, and she had to raise Connor alone…She couldn't afford that luxury right now, the luxury of dreaming.

But she couldn't say that to Connor. It would break his heart.

"It's not that easy Connor. It's complicated."

"Oh….." , was all he said. And he sounded so crestfallen.

She looked out of the window, trying to find the apartment.

 _It should be here somewhere._

"Mommy?"

"Yes…"

"Do you think he will like me?"

"Who, your father? Of course, he will like you. In fact, he loves you already."

"Really?" , he asked

She smiled. "Yes, really. There is no one in the world who won't fall in love with you."

"Will he take me to the football games?"

"Well, that is something you will have to ask him, won't you?" , she said.

" Oh, Ok." , he said, and he sounded happy.

She looked out the window again and located the apartment. It was approaching on her left. It wasn't exactly palatial or lush as the others, but still stood proudly among it's more wealth brothers.

The car came to a screeching halt near the curb. She unclipped her belt and got out of the car.

"Come on Conner. Let's go."

"Where are we going?" , he asked.

"To get help for your father."

"Okay…" , and he got out of the car swiftly and slammed the door behind him. He seemed utterly eager and determined, well, as determined as a nine-year-old could get.

They entered the building and spoke to the guard, who was dozing off on his post. He pointed her towards the elevator, saying that the person they wanted had just got in.

She entered the elevator with Conner in tow and tapped on the button for the seventh floor. Oliver had even given her the apartment number.

The elevator began its ascend soundlessly. The one in her apartment made a whirring noise every time three or more persons got in. It was really hazardous.

They got off on the seventh floor and walked down the hallway towards apartment number 703. They reached the door and waited for a moment.

She was trying to decide what to say to the person. So after a couple of minutes, she raised her fist and knocked on the door, hard. The sound echoed in the empty hallway.

There was no response.

She knocked again, and then she heard footsteps coming in rapid staccato from inside.

The door cracked open to the extent the chain would allow it, and a woman peeked at them from behind it. From her cursory glance the woman looked to be in her late twenties. Her abundant dark hair cascaded down to her shoulder and framed her small, mousy face. There were bags under her brown eyes.

She looked at her with a paucity of suspicion. Her eyes narrowed and brows furrowed, as though she was trying to place her face. But was failing to do so.

" Caitlyn Snow?" , asked Sarah.

"Yes, can I help you?"

She could see Caitlyn's eyes cloud with suspicion. And she couldn't blame her. The city was infested with meta-human, and if it would have been her on the other side of the door this late at night, she wouldn't have even opened the door.

"Miss Snow…my name is Sarah Hawke and this is my son Connor Hawke. You need to come with me right away.I need your help…" , said Sarah.

"What?"

"I need your help, Miss Snow." , she reiterated. "The situation is complicated. I am friend of Oliver Queen's and he is badly injured. He needs your assistance immediately. I would have called the ambulance, but the nature of his injuries would have guaranteed some unpleasant and unwanted questions which Oliver would not have appreciated."

Caitlyn remained silent. This explanation did not diffuse the suspicion from her face. It still sat there like a disapproving mother, nagging at her endlessly.

"Look Miss Snow -"

"Sorry…what was your name again?" asked Caitlyn interrupting her.

"Sarah Hawke…but that is hardly relevant right now. Oliver is dying. You need to come with me right away", begged Sarah.

"Right…", drawled Caitlyn. "Look Miss…I don't know what kind of game you are playing here, but Oliver Queen is a good friend of mine, and he would have called me if he were in any kind of trouble. So goodbye…."

She was about to slam the door, but Sarah wedged her foot against it and held it open

"Listen ma'am, you have to believe me. Oliver is currently lying in my apartment with cuts, bruises, gunshot wounds and what not. And he asked me explicitly to come to you. He said that you were some kind of doctor who worked at STAR Labs. Please believe me….I am not lying." , reasoned Sarah.

"Ok…that's plausible, but why not call me? Why come all the way here?"

"Because he asked me to reach out to you in person. He sounded paranoid, but it may have been his injuries. He said something about the government tapping his phones…..he wasn't making much sense and he could hardly speak."

Caitlyn sighed and then frowned some more.

"Fine…I believe you. Come on in…Why don't you wait in the living room while I get my kit? It will take a couple of minutes…."

Sarah and Connor walked in into the living room. It was well decorated, and warmly lit. And everything looked expensive - from the couch to the carpet to the drapes.

 _Damn…she must earn a lot._

Conner moved and sat on the couch. She drifted towards the table beside the couch. There was a photo propped on it. She lifted it up to examine it. It was a picture of Caitlyn and another man taken in front of the Eiffel tower. The picture was brimming with happiness. Both Caitlyn and the man had their arms around one another and had stupid grins etched on their face. She found herself smiling back at that. It was a very comforting picture.

 _She has a man that loves her dearly._

But looking around the room she found no sign of a man here. There was no forty inch plasma TV to watch the games or stains on the couch or the carpets or any other photos of the couple. The place was impeccably clean - an indisputable sign that she lived alone.

She wondered about what might have happened to the man in the picture. Did he cheat on her? Did he break up and leave her with a broken heart? Or did their relationship just wither away into the ether, leaving them both disjointed?

Now looking in through the window into someone else's life gave her a new perspective into her own. Maybe it wasn't only her that life had screwed over; there were others too out there in much worse condition than hers. At least she had her son. Maybe Caitlyn was all alone in the world.

An approaching footstep jolted her out of her musing. She placed the picture back on the table. Caitlyn walked into the room.

"All right, I have everything I need. Let's go." she urged.

Forty minutes later they were standing outside her apartment door. Sarah fished out her keys, opened the door and gestured Caitlyn to step in before her.

Caitlyn hurried in before her and went straight into her living room. Time was of the essence and Oliver had already lost a lot of blood.

"He is in the bedroom. Take the right turn. It's the last room down the hall." , and saying that she turned around and locked the door behind her.

She turned back around and padded towards the living room only to find herself being obstructed by Caitlyn, who had come to a halt in front of the living room.

"What's the matter Caitlyn? The room is down the hallway." , she said.

She moved around Caitlyn and stepped into the living room, and what she saw made her stop on her tracks. There sprawled on the ground was Oliver, all bloodied and half naked. One of the lamp stands had toppled over and was lying on the ground, casting an intense and concentric light on the wall. There were bloodstains on her carpet. The whole dynamic of the room had changed.

 _Shit! He must have crawled out of the bedroom._

And this immediately made her worry about Conner. He was standing mutely in the corner staring intently at his father. Caitlyn promptly scuttled towards the man question to check up on him.

Connor was a quiet creature, and being exposed to such a stimulating sight could aggravate his malleable psyche, or so she ascertained. She had to get him out of here.

She bent down in front of him, "Connor, honey, I want you to go to your room and play with your toys, okay. Can you do that for me?"

Connor looked at her, fear swirled in that emerald eyes of his, and nodded.

"Is he going to be okay?" , he asked softly.

"Yes, he is going to be fine. Miss Snow here is going to patch him up good." ,she assured him.

He nodded again and made a beeline for his room.

She sighed in relief. Then she moved towards Caitlyn to check how Oliver was faring.

"Okay…give it to me straight Doc. What's the verdict?" , she asked.

"He is at the edge of a precipice. His pulse is faint but is beating nonetheless. This shows the kind of a stubborn son of a bitch he is." , Caitlyn retorted.

"So, is he gonna make it?" , she asked anxiously.

"I think he will most probably pull through by the scrap of his teeth, but there may be complications. He has to be kept under constant observation. He has two bullet wounds on his back. The bullets are still lodged in; we need to get it out. His left wrist is broken. That will need plastering up. And lets not talk about the numerous cuts and bruises. He must have been through hell to have come out in this situation. Anything more and he would have been on the cold slab in a morgue." , Caitlyn said.

"Ok…so what do we do now?" , she asked.

"We have to move him from here, preferably to a bed."

"Move him? How? He must weigh the same as that refrigerator."

Caitlyn looked at her and then down at the body, contemplating the laborious ordeal she would have to subject herself to.

She got up and flexed her muscles. "Let's do it."

Sarah sighed and acquiesced.

They bent down and tried pulling him up, but he wouldn't budge. It had to be done delicately so as not to aggravate his wound. So they got down and tried to lift him off the floor. It took them about five minutes to figure out the best possible angle to lift him without harming him.

But somehow they could lift only his upper body a few inches off the ground. They dragged him like a rag doll all the way to the bedroom.

Both of them were huffing and puffing as their shoulders screamed with pain. They assaulted and pushed him on the bed with all their might, not caring if it hurt him.

Sarah collapsed at the edge of the bed and tried to catch her breath. Her chest was heaving and her armpits were perspiring. The last time she had exerted herself so much physically was when she had remodeled her old apartment. She had to lift all the heavy object up to the third floor on her own.

She looked at Caitlyn, who had her hand on her chest. She was breathing heavily too.

"Ok…Caitlyn. What now?" she asked, her voice strained from the exertion.

"Now…is the tough part. I want you to bring me a bowl of scalding hot water and the strongest bottle of alcohol you have got." said Caitlyn.

"Alcohol? What for?"

"It's for you. To dull your senses for when you help me."

"What? I have to help you?", she asked incredulously.

"Of course. His wounds are extensive, and I need more than a pair of hands if I am to save his life. He is still bleeding, so hurry up. Get them for me. It's going to be a long night."

She sighed and acceded. Never in a million years had she thought that she would be doing this. This whole evening had been absolutely surreal for her, starting with the bitter revelation that the father of her child was also secretly a vigilante who liked to beat criminals to a pulp. And according to Caitlyn, the night wasn't even over yet.

She exhaled softly, releasing all the pent up tension from her shoulders. But there was still some welling up in the pit of her stomach.

 _Yup….it was going to be a long night._

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He flung the goblet across the hall, as water spilled out of it and the empty vessel clanked across the granite floor, echoing all the way.

Al Sarab flinched. The temperature in the hall dropped suddenly and an unnatural chill slunk over his skin. This unfettered display of anger made the hair on his nape stand. It was unnerving.

In his six years of apprenticeship, he had rarely seen his master so irate. It was known for a fact that Ra's Al Ghul was the epitome of calm and cool. He rarely let his emotions get the better of him. But that was not the case now. Gone was the Ra's who would slay his enemy with the same nonplussed attitude as he would plucking a flower. Right now, the Ra's that was pacing ceaselessly in front of him was not the calm and collected one that the League revered and enemies feared.

It was almost disconcerting to watch him like this. His face was red with anger, his brows screwed in concentration and the veins in his neck were taut to the point of bursting.

Left, right, left, right - he paced. The cloak on his back swished and flicked against the candle lights at his constant change of direction.

Al Sarab had not anticipated this kind of reaction to the news that he had brought. This kind of reaction from Ra's was unprecedented. He had to do something.

"Master…are you okay?" ,asked .

Ra's came to a halt abruptly and fixed him with a deathly glare.

Al Sarab stumbled back, as though his glare had just burned his skin. He had never been at the receiving end of Ra's anger and nor did he ever want to.

In the blink of an eyes Ra's hands were on his throat, and he was pushed up against the wall. He could feel Ra's ragged breathe against his face. His breathing was irregular and he was shaking, as though he was trying to reign in his anger and gain control. His lips were twisted in a snarl and trembling.

Sarab marveled at the strength with which he was held up. He could feel it radiating off of Ra. In that moment his surrounding felt like a long forgotten dream as they faded away, and all that was tangible was Ra's powerful fingers squeezing the life out of him. It was frightening. He could snap his neck with the slightest of pressure if he wanted to. And there would be nothing he could do about it.

He was choking. He couldn't breath and his vision was slowly dimming.

"Where did you get this information Sarab?" , spat Ra's, his face corrugate and as red as a tomato.

"From…from the League contact….set up in Central City." , rasped Sarab.

"How legitimate is this information?" , Ra's growled.

The pressure on his throat was impeding him from speaking, but somehow he got a few words out.

"It's….it's all over the news. But….even…the authorities over there are not sure about it…..Investigation is ongoing as we speak. Our contact at the DA's office will….will inform us if there is any break." , croaked Sarab.

Ra's released him and walked away.

Sarab bent down and started coughing as spit and phlegm spurted out. He massaged his throat trying to dull the ache.

Ra's had begun his pacing again.

"It's preposterous. An unforeseen setback for my plans." barked Ra's amidst his pacing.

"A setback for your plans, my Lord? What plan?….it was my understanding that you were considering retirement, since you asked Oliver Queen to take your place. I don't see how his death is a setback." frowned Sarab.

Ra's stopped pacing and fixed him with a beady stare.

"I am and forever shall be the leader of the League of Assassins. Oliver Queen was just a means to an end. He was never meant to command the League. A mere ruse. He was supposed to be another pawn under my thumb." declared Ra's.

"But Master….what is this plan that you speak of? And how is Queen's death affecting it?" asked Sarab.

He watched as Ra's closed his eyes and released a deep breathe, as though trying to calm himself.

Then his eyes sprung open. Determination and conviction were swirling in that obsidian black eyes of his.

"Tell me Sarab, what is the aim of the League?" ,asked Ra's.

Like a well oiled machine he chanted, "To maintain a veritable balance between good and evil. To make sure that either of the one doesn't tip the scales. If there is too much good then we irradiate it like a plague, and if there is too much evil then we lop off as many heads as we can."

"That is correct. And just like all those situations that required our intervention in the past, a new situation has risen that requires our active participation." explained Ra's.

"Which is?" he asked.

"Starling City." ,said Ra's.

"What about it?"

"Starling City has been quite a nuisance for the last twenty years. It is ruled by a cluster of hedonistic, decadent people who can't look beyond their own needs. The creme de la creme of this corrupt society glean off everything, leaving the bottom feeders to lick their own wounds. Criminals run amok on the streets stealing, murdering and raping. It's a hell hole infested with pests. It's an ignominy to the world. It is a place the world won't miss. In fact, a hideous hell hole like that doesn't deserve to live. It should die….slowly rotting away while the people clamor over one another to maintain their pretentious glamour and glory." said Ra's.

"So Starling needs to be destroyed?"

"Yes. Starling's reckoning is coming. The city will be razed."

"So that was your plan all along? Even before you offered Queen the throne to the League?" enquired Sarab.

"Yes, it indeed was. I have been planning this for the last five years." said Ra's.

Sarab frowned. This got him thinking.

"So….how does Oliver Queen figure into this plan of yours?" he asked.

"Oliver Queen was just the pawn. The one who would orchestrate and execute my grand plan without being aware of it. Like I said, a means to an end. He would lead the army. It was poetic even. The Son of Starling being the one to plunge the sword into it's heart. But unfortunately everything went awry…."

"So what now, my Lord? Oliver Queen may be dead. And if so then you lost your pawn. Is there any kind of contingency plan in place?" asked Sarab.

"Oliver Queen was the contingency plan."

Sarab crinkled his brows in confusion.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"My initial plan was to take Starling City by force. Storm it, loot it, ravage through it and leave it in shambles. But then Oliver Queen came along. And in him I found an easier way which would save me a lot of headache and the lives of our members. So Oliver Queen became my plan A." explained Ra's.

This really surprised him. He knew that the League brought about monumental changes with their actions, but this was the first time he was involved in something massive. This undertaking was going to have a colossal impact and inexorable geopolitical and humanitarian repercussions. There were going to be casualties. Lots of them. And they were resorting to manipulation and trickery to meet their needs. Because after all they were the evangelists of change. A herald for a new dawn. And war was their tool.

His hand went back to his aching throat, massaging it absent-mindedly. The ache wasn't as sharp as before, but it still lingered like an annoying buzz.

" So what now master? Do we revert back to your old plan?" he asked.

"This news is an omen; a sign. And it will not deter my plans. In fact I am going to step it up. Spread the word Sarab! Prepare the troops! We are going to launch an attack on Starling City on the next full moon."

 _Next full moon. That is in a week._

"Yes, master. Anything else?"

"Yes, a couple more things. How many assets do we have in Central City?" asked Ra's.

Sarab racked his brain trying to recall the information.

"I believe we have around seven stationed there sire. Why do you ask oh sire?"

"Contact them immediately. Tell them to search the entire city for Oliver Queen as discreetly as possible. Tell them to be thorough and conduct a door to door search if necessary." ordered Ra's.

"But master….he is dead. Is there a reason that you believe otherwise?"

"Don't believe everything you hear Sarab. Not until you confirm it with your own eyes. Experience taught me that. My assets have never failed me before. If the authorities cannot produce evidence of his death, then I am certain that my assets will find him if there is anything to find. And if they can produce evidence of his death then cease the search operation immediately….It's better if all the bases are covered."

"Yes, master. I will also contact our man in the immigration office and ask him to prepare the necessary papers for us to travel to the US."

"Hmmm…very well. And I also want you to do one more thing for me. Mobilize our assets stationed in Starling City. Tell them to contact all the local gangs and crime lords. Round up every insect we can get. We will need their help to take the city. Promise them weapons…..promise them money….promise them protection and safe haven,….but most importantly promise them a world without rules and law….a world where they can do as they place….", said Ra's. "Make them believe that we will serve Starling City to them on a platter…..they just need to provide the manpower. And when we do have the city and it's people under our command, then and only then do we destroy it….obliterate it out of existence."

Sarab nodded, mesmerized by his master's vision. He felt a powerful emotion surging through him, a feeling of belongingness and solidarity.

 _I am part of something big. Something that will change the world. A revolution, an uprising._

But that didn't mean that there wasn't going to be any kind of glitch. There would be barriers they would have to burst through.

"But my Lord…what about the rebels?…those vigilante? They most certainly won't stand idle."

"Ah! yes, those vigilantes. Let me tell you something Sarab. In all my time on earth, I have been part of many uprising, many revolutions. Some were great, some insignificant, some we believed in and some we didn't. And in all of them the one common thing was the inexorable amount of rebellion…..People rise when pushed against the wall. They have this thing called spirit in them which propels them towards the vanguard of the impossible. They rise fight tooth and nail for it, clinging to the hope of a better tomorrow, a better future." revealed Ra's.

"But that only lasts for so long. It fizzles out. Because with hope comes despair which eats everyone up from the inside. It's like a slow knife, which waits in the darkness for the right moment to slip between the ribs….And once despair and hopelessness takes a hold of you then there is no going back." continued Ra's.

"So..that's what is going to happen to these wannabe vigilante." said Ra's. "Oh! they are brave and brimming with spirit. They will fight no doubt. They will fight till their last breathe. But eventually they will perish without their leader. They are already weak and without direction. We will attack from the dark and with the element of surprise. They won't know what hit them….They will be nothing but annoying flies waiting to be swatted away…"

Sarab remained silent, lapping up his master's words like an obedient dog.

"My Lord….I will leave you be now. You don't have to worry. I will make all the necessary arrangements. And if I receive any news regarding the death of Oliver Queen then I will inform you immediately." said Sarab.

Ra's grunted and waved him away, as he made his way deeper into the hall, no doubt heading for his chambers.

Sarab made his way out of the hall, his mind reeling with all the reveals and information. The plan had finally been unravelled.

 _This is really happening and there is nothing that can rarefy this moment._

The winds of change were already blowing.

And the whole world was going to cower before their feet.

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Author's Note - First and foremost I would like to thanks everyone who reviewed, favorited and follow my story. I am immensely grateful.

Secondly I apologize for not having updated for so long. I was really busy with some of my other projects. It almost took me one and a half month to write this. From here on I will increase the pace of the story. All the previous chapters were slow and reflective. But from henceforth it is gonna be fast and action packed. We will look into the mind of Ra's as he storms Starling. There is more to Ra's plan than what was revealed here. Please stick with me for that.

Daredevil season 2 is knocking on the door. I can hardly wait. And of course two more weeks before the Gods themselves arrive on the big screen. It almost feels surreal. I waited for this movie for about two years. It is going to be an epic hit.

And lastly, I implore you to read, review, favorite and follow.

Peace out.


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Sarah released a deep breathe. The steely, antiseptic odor of all the medicines were giving her a bout of headache.

She quivered and looked down at her blood marred hands.

 _Oliver's blood._

She had blood on her hands. Literally. And she was tired. Dead tired. Her body wasn't cooperating anymore. In fact it had stopped cooperating a long time ago. The occasional swigs off the bottle was what was keeping her nerves steady and the weariness at bay.

But the buzz was starting to wane now and the tiredness was creeping in. Her eyes were burning, begging to be rested. She had been on her feet for about sixteen hours. And the last five hours had been spent in this room, where she and Caitlin worked to patch Oliver up.

In fact, Caitlin was still working. Her face was steady, but her eyes were narrowed in concentration, as her wiry hands sewed up the last wounds on his shoulder.

Sarah was amazed by this woman's determination and commitment. From afar she looked small and timid, but seeing her in action was a whole other tale. Caitlin was a tempest, all hale and steely. She didn't show any sign of exhaustion. She was stable and anchored.

Sarah peaked out the window. The sun had just come up. The warm rays filtered in through the window and brightened up the room. It was going to be a beautiful day, a complete contrast to the situation inside.

She glanced at the clock. It was almost seven. In about two hours she would have to drop Connor off at school. And she also had to go to work. It was going to be a hectic day.

"All right. It's done." Caitlin's voice shook her out of her musing.

She turned her attention back to Caitlin, who snapped the latex gloves off her hands.

"What's the prognosis, Doc?" , asked Sarah.

"He should recover, considering there is no unforeseen complications." said Caitlin. "But we have to take him to a hospital. He requires professional attention."

"No, not an option. Oliver trusts your judgement."

"Then my judgement says that he should be in an ambulance right about now.", said Caitlin raising her voice.

"Caitlin….listen to me. If we take him to the hospital, unnecessary questions will be raised. We talked about that. He will be in more trouble than he already is."

Caitlin sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I'm sorry. It's been a stressful day and I'm just worried is all. I have patched him up the best I could, and it would give me peace of mind if we could get a professional opinion. But that isn't an option now, is it?"

"No, it's not."

"Well, then for all our sakes pray that my handiwork is enough, and there is no further complications."

Sarah frowned at that. "What do you mean? What kind of complications?"

Caitlin plumped down on the edge of the bed, "There may be a lot of complications."

"Tell me. All of them."

"Ok….how about I start at the beginning? That way you will get the run of things and it will be easier for me to list the complications."

Sarah nodded.

"Well…we started with the gunshot wounds on his back, because on a perfunctory level they looked lethal. But on further inspection I determined that they weren't life threatening. We managed to pull the slugs out. By the way, I am surprised that held your own in here with me. I thought you would be squeamish," ,said Caitlin

Sarah smiled. "Well, the alcohol did dull everything."

Caitlin nodded, "Anyway, on further inspection I found something strange."

Sarah tilted her head. "What?"

"The bullets. It has a calibre of about 5 mm and they have high velocity. It is often said that the lower calibre bullets cause higher damage than the higher calibre bullets depending on the velocity. If the velocity is right, then a 5 mm will cause more damage than a 7 mm or a 10 mm."

Sarah looked at her in askance. "Ok..remind me again what kind of doctor you are?"

Caitlin spared a tired grin at her and continued. "Anyway, as I was saying small calibre bullets can cause severe damage with the right velocity. But that wasn't so in this case. You saw how the bullets were embedded on his back. They had just broken his skin and burrowed about an inches below his dermis. The wounds were shallow. That is why he didn't loose too much blood and go into hypovolemic shock…But it doesn't make any sense. Taking into consideration the depth of the wound, I would say that the shooter was standing at about 80 - 90 yards away from him."

"90 yards? That's really far." remarked Sarah.

Caitlin smiled. "No, it's not actually. 70 yards is the average distance of a police sniper shooting in the US as stated by the FBI. 80 - 90 yards is a cake walk for any sniper worth his salt."

"Ok seriously….what kind of doctor are you? How do you know so much about these things?"

Caitlin chuckled. "I'll tell you everything later. For now just know that my work takes me places."

Sarah reined in her curiosity for the moment, but there was something else that was bothering her. "Ok…so what you are saying is that a sniper shot at Oliver? I find that unbelievable."

Caitlin looked at her incredulously, "What's so unbelievable about that? Oliver is the Arrow. He has tangled with dangerous people, who will resort to any means to bring him down. I think getting shot by a sniper doesn't even make it up the list."

Sarah was gravely perturbed by this. Oliver's life was so detached from hers. It felt like they lived on two different planets. All she had to worry about were her bills, mortgages, insurance, shoes, clothes etc etc. But Oliver…he was out there, making a difference. All she would do was sit on her armchair and bitch about some shady politician appearing on TV, but he, he would go out there and do something about it. He touched the sun, while they toiled on the dirt trying to satiate their own hedonistic pursuits.

She had never felt as insignificant in her life as she felt now.

" — anyway as I was saying it doesn't make sense." finished Caitlin.

Sarah was lost in her own thoughts, befuddled by the bizarreness of the situation. But the sudden silence snapped her out of her thoughts and she realized that Caitlin had stopped speaking and was staring at her in a weird way.

"I am sorry….I just zoned out." she apologized. "What were you saying?"

Caitlin sighed, "I was saying that it doesn't make any sense."

"What doesn't?"

"That a sniper would use a 5mm round instead of the larger calibre they regularly use. It's like you try to shoot a tank with a bow and arrow even though you have a bazooka at hand. It's absurd. I mean why would you use a smaller calibre bullet to shoot from 100 yards out instead of a larger one? It doesn't make sense."

"So you are saying that it wasn't a sniper that shot him?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I am saying. Well, that's exactly what my science is implying." said Caitlin.

"So if it wasn't a sniper, then what was it? A handgun from a close range?" asked Sarah.

"A handgun also seems unlikely." stated Caitlin.

"How so?"

"Because the slug would have burrowed in deeper than it has. There is no way that a bullet off a handgun would just sit an inch below the dermis if the shooter was standing really close, say about 8 - 9 yards. It would have perforated his lungs or taken out his heart. And there is no way that this person shot him from 15 yards out with a handgun. It isn't as accurate from that far out, no matter how good the shooter is. And the shooter is good, I would say a seasoned pro judging by the groupings of his shots. Each slug was two inches away from the other." said Caitlin.

Sarah gobbled everything down. This was really educational for her and she was grasping things quickly. "Ok….if not a sniper or a handgun, then what do you think it was? Do you have a theory?"

"Yes, I do actually. I think it was a special type of gun. A gun which uses this type of 5mm bullets. This gun must have been small and handy. Custom made. It is meant only to injure and stun but not kill."

"Okay….."

"Well all I am saying is that he is really lucky that it was this gun otherwise it would have been a totally different story. Had it been a handgun, he would have lost a lot of blood and gone into hypovolemic shock, that is if he wouldn't have died on the spot first. But he is gonna be in a lot of pain when he comes to."

Sarah remained quiet. She did not understand how lucky this predicament of Oliver's was. She shuddered to think about what the situation would have been like if he was unlucky.

 _If this is lucky, then I wonder what unlucky look like?_

"Look…this is all very disturbing, more so for you than for me, considering the fact that I deal with these situations almost everyday. But Sarah, you have to bear with me. It's important to run down his injuries so that we can account for any discrepancies."

Sarah took a deep breathe as multitude of emotions rattled her mind and body. There was too much to take in. "No, no, I am okay. It's just too much to process. It's overwhelming. Knowing all this has opened the door to a whole different world, a whole different set of people…..it's making me put my life in perspective, making me question the significance of my life. It's…..it's debilitating."

"Believe me when I say this….I too have been in your shoes. In the past few months, my life has been rattled and upturned. My science…my concepts….my grasp on reality has all been called in question. It was quite disconcerting. But I pulled through. And so will you. I believe that. Just give it time."

Sarah nodded at her words. Whatever she said made sense. Time was what she required. But right now, she needed to occupy her mind with some other things. "Ok….let's get back to business. We got the bullet wounds. What else?"

"The slugs which I pulled out. I am going to take them back to my lab and analyze it. There might be fingerprints or a partial at least left behind by the shooter. These slugs are unique….as unique as the gun. So I am gonna run the specifications through a database and see if I can get a match on the shooter."

Sarah remained silent. This wasn't her field. So she thought it better to just keep quiet and listen to everything Caitlin was saying. In fact she seemed to know what she was doing.

"Ok….moving on…..we have the broken nose. Yes….I have fixed it up. Set it straight. I have patched it up with cotton and gauze. But it would have been better if we had POP. But thanks heaven that his blood clots quicker than most. He didn't loose much blood. But it's gonna hurt like a bitch when he comes to. We have to keep the pain killers ready." explained Caitlin.

"I am going to work in an hour. I could pick it up for you and drop it by at lunch." offered Sarah.

"Yeah, that would be great. I think I'll skip work today. I need to keep an eye on him, in case his condition degrades. I'll swing by my lab later to run the tests on the bullets." said Caitlin.

Caitlin moved and pointed to Oliver's damaged shoulder. There was a wound there, but now it was covered with gauze. A smelly, copper colored ointment which she had smeared earlier was peaking out from underneath, "Look…this wound on his shoulder. This was the most lethal blow he was dealt out of all. He could have lost a lot of of blood, but somehow he didn't."

Sarah stepped closer. "What happened?"

"I inspected the wound. My best guess would be an arrow or a spear, judging by the wound. It has damaged his surrounding tissues, blood vessels and muscle. And what aggravated the wound more was him yanking out the thing from his shoulder."

Sarah shuddered at the thought. "Ouch!"

"Exactly. It must have hurt like hell and aside from that it was stupid. You don't pull an arrow out like that. He could have died from the blood loss. But I suppose he applied pressure and somehow contained the blood loss. But nonetheless, it was dangerous. There are no pieces of the arrow head left inside. That is lucky I must say. I have cleaned the wound with antiseptic and sewed it up."

Sarah nodded. "What about his face?"

"There was shrapnel lodged in the cut on his forehead. I removed it. It took two stitched to close the wound. So that is done. Then there are the light burns on the left side of his face. It isn't anything severe. Just a slight flash burn. I have applied some burn ointment on his face. So it shouldn't leave any scars."

Sarah looked at Oliver's face. It looked ridiculous. HIs nose was all bandaged with cotton and gauze, and there was a jelly ointment smeared liberally on his forehead for the burn. It looked like he had just come into a saloon for a facial.

Caitlin continued, hardly faltering in cadence. "And there is also the hairline fracture on his left wrist. It was a displaced break. Nothing severe though. I set it in place and put it in a splint. I could only do the preliminary thing. There are about 10 small bones in the wrist, and there may be a break in any one of them in this case. I don't know which. That is why we need to take him to an hospital. He needs an X-ray."

Alarms immediately went off in Sarah's head. "No! No! We are not taking him to the hospital. Even if he is in critical condition. That's is the reason he asked for you. People will ask all kinds of unwanted questions. "

"Look Sarah…..this is severe. I know we talked about this and I complied to your wishes. But he might not be able to use that arm ever again if it is not looked at by a doctor!" cried Caitlin.

The temperature had suddenly risen in the room, and it had nothing to do with the sun streaming in. "Look…Caitlin. Do we need to do it again? We are on the same team here. And I will say it again, Oliver told me explicitly to not take him to the hospital. I can understand why. And he was also mumbling something about the government being after him. So I think we have to keep his location under wraps." she assuaged.

Caitlin's shoulder's slumped and a breathe escaped her lips. She looked tired and deflated now. The whole night's exhaustion suddenly appeared on her face. It looked like she would collapse any second.

"I know that, but it doesn't make it any more easier. I just want to help him."

"I know you do. So do I. But he has put the both of us in an impossible situation. But…he is the father of my child, and it is my duty to protect him." revealed Sarah quietly.

Caitlin's eyes widened. She didn't even try to conceal her surprise. Her mouth had widened into a wide gaping O.

"Yes, I know. Shocking right. Oliver and I share a history from long before he was lost at sea. So…does it answer all your questions? About why a stranger who you have barely seen before is helping him?" Sarah asked.

Caitlin nodded, but words failed to escape her mouth. It was clear that she had not seen this coming.

Sarah let her eyes wander over the battered and bruised body of the man in question. His body was barely held together by all the bandages and gauzes. If a strong wind were to blow in through the open window, she was pretty sure that it would tear his limbs off and take them for a ride.

"I need this man alive. I need him to walk again and fight again. For my son. For the world."

This man lying in front of her was no longer the spoilt frat boy. He was a man now, fighting tirelessly for redemption. Fighting tirelessly to protect. Like a shepherd did his sheep.

She no longer felt contempt or angry towards him. Her rather acerbic opinion about him had suddenly convoluted into warm glowing protectiveness

 _He is the father of my son. He has to walk again._

Caitlin cleared her throat. "Look….Sarah….I am here for the both of you. I want to see him walk too. You see…I am friends with the Flash. In fact he is a good friend of Oliver's…He would be here in a heart beat to-"

"No, no, no. Oliver's life is already at risk as it is. It is evident that who ever was gunning for him was aiming to kill him, but fortunately failed. So I am pretty sure that Oliver wouldn't want his friend under the same spotlight. And I am pretty sure you wouldn't either." interjected Sarah.

"But….Sarah…you have to see reason. If what you say is true then Oliver's life is in danger and so is yours. You will need protection…and the Flash can give that to you." urged Caitlin.

"I know….and I appreciate the help, but please don't. Not until the danger is immediate. Don't tell anything to a soul. I don't know what the hell is going on out there, but we need to be hush hush about this. You need to treat him until he recovers."

Caitlin nodded reluctantly. She was having a hard time deigning her friend's life in the hands of God, when she was perfectly capable to do so herself.

"It's almost eight now. You should wake Connor up and get ready. I am gonna stay here with Oliver for the first half if you don't mind. Then later in the afternoon you babysit him while I swing by the lab and run the tests." offered Caitlin.

Sarah groaned. She had to go to work and her whole body was sore. She really needed a shower and a change of clothes. And she needed to wake Connor up.

"Ok, I'll go. I'll be back at around 12. You can sleep on the couch if you want and there is food in the fridge."

Caitlin nodded at that. She padded across the room and sat on the armchair. She whipped out her phone and started tapping on it, probably texting her colleagues that she would be late for work.

Sarah treaded out of her room and made her way towards Connor's room. This whole ordeal was going to have a negative impact on him, even if it didn't show on the surface. This wasn't what she had planned when she wanted him to meet his father. This was somehow going to end in a disaster.

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Author's note - Thank you for all the follows, favorites and the reviews.

I am uploading two chapters together. In case you have any queries please feel free to PM me. It is easier to answer question and deliberate through PM.

Thank you.


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER - 17

Barry Allen was the fastest man alive. But right now he really wished that he didn't have his speed.

Why?

Because right now, he was the bearer of bad news.

He was en route to Starling City with some heavy news. News which even he found befuddling and hard to swallow. He didn't know how he would break this news to Felicity and the others.

He had always been grateful for his speed. It was an honor bestowed upon him by the Gods. He felt privileged that he was the only one who received it. He had never exploited it, and god forbid should he ever. It was a huge responsibility, this power.

So every day keeping that in mind, he pushed himself harder, barreling into the toughest situations, running the race for every men and women in the city. Not even directing a sliver of his powers for himself.

Some gazed at him with awe. Some thought him to be a modern day Jesus, here to save them. But he…..he was just a man, with certain advantages which afforded him the tools to help. He was just a man, who wanted the safe things his forefathers wanted - peace, justice, and roof over everyone's head.

But lately, he was suffering a crisis of faith. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how fast he ran, the world would always find a way to throw a road block at him. It was infuriating and downright disheartening.

Like right now. He didn't know how he would soften the blow of the news that it would deal to Diggle and Felicity. Even he was having a hard time coming to terms with it.

He zipped through the city, swerving around the seemingly still cars and bikes and people. It gave him an eerie feeling every time he did it. Every time he ran the world stopped. He loved his powers, but that was the only time he ever felt lonely. Like he was the only one in the world.

He caught the freeway and tore down the asphalt. It took him about fifteen seconds before he saw the 'Welcome to Starling City' sign. He entered the city and evading a barrage of incoming cars he headed towards downtown.

 _Felicity should be at work ._

He stopped a block away from Palmer Tech. He would have to walk the rest of the way.

This was the heart of Starling City, where all the business and commercial buildings nested. This was the part on which the whole city thrived. Other than that there was nothing worth while here. This place was the complete opposite of Central City. Hope didn't survive here.

Palmer Tech was a behemoth. It was at the heart of downtown. It stood proudly and shone the brightest in this ghastly city. Employing over a million people and one of the leading pioneers in the field of nanotechnology in diverse fields, it foretold the story of hope and promise. Ray Palmer was an idol of his. With a phD in physics, he started his company at the ripe age of 23. He was a hero in the physics field. Rumor was that the CIA, NSA and all the government organizations would occasionally call upon him for advice.

He entered the building and passed the security check. The place was teeming with people, all busy as a bee. Everyone had a different story to tell. Some came in for interviews, others were taking heaps of files from one department to the other. The crump of their shoes sounded like an approaching army, and the cadence of their murmurs rose and fell like the symphony of an orchestra. The building was shooting out pulses of energy, which was humbling and overwhelming at the same time. This building was alive.

He approached the front desk. A lady in her mid-forties with a button nose and a nice smile sat behind it.

"Hello, sir! Welcome to Palmer Tech. How may I be of assistance?" she asked in her overly sweet voice.

"Yeah….I wanted to speak to Felicity Smoak. I think she is one of your senior level employee." said Barry.

"Do you have an appointment with her?"

"Well…no, but she told me that the front desk would point me in the right direction once I got here." he lied.

She smiled at him and bent down to check her computer. After ten seconds she looked up at him. "Well sir, it seems Miss Smoak isn't in. She has taken a leave of absence."

Barry nodded. "Ok, thanks for your help."

He got out of the building as fast as he could, entered an alley and begun running.

 _If she is not at work, then the next most likely place is the cave._

He bolted forward, swerving through the labyrinthine streets. In five seconds he was standing in front of the steel mill, which served as Oliver's base of operation.

The word "VERDANT' was etched on a sign board on top of the mill. It had slipped his mind that Oliver had turned the place into a nightclub to hide his base. He entered the now empty and cold place and made a beeline for the door which led to the base.

He stood in front of the door but couldn't open it. It was locked. There was a keypad beside it. He looked up at the camera mounted on top of the door and waved, urging whoever was inside to open it.

There was a beep and the keypad turned green. The door cracked open with a hiss.

He pushed passed the door and was met by an anxious looking Felicity and a tired Laurel.

"Barry! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the crime scene?" asked Felicity. She looked as though she was hanging by a thread. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair was in disarray.

"Yeah, I already worked the crime scene. I checked everything out and I am here bearing news." said Barry, his heart thundering with fear.

"What kind of news?" asked Laurel, her eyes as big as tennis balls.

"You better sit down for it. I don't know how to soften it. I mean I myself am having a hard time believing it. You should -"

"Barry!" Felicity barked. "Just spit it out!"

He sighed and looked down at the ground. God….he couldn't look them in the eye.

"It's better if I show it."

He opened his bag and pulled out two evidence bags. Inside one was Oliver's quiver and arrows. The quiver was charred and crispy like paper. The arrows had deformed and were partially melted. A couple of them were sticking to each other. The other bag contained his tattered costume which was tinted with what he thought to be blood, and there was a large amount of it. But it had turned black now. He laid it out on the table.

The girls took one look at it and their demeanor changed. Their eyes widened and their face turned ashen gray. Felicity was rooted to the spot, her mouth agape. Laurel moved back a couple of steps as though she had received a shock.

"I found these at the crime scene. All burned and charred. Hardly salvageable…but I pulled these out. And judging from these I don't think anything could have survived the blast or the fire thereafter."

"What are you trying to say?" asked Laurel sharply.

Her face was contorted in anger, but there were fear and apprehension swirling in her eyes.

"There was signs that Oliver was there but -"

"Barry don't mince your words. Just spit it out. We are tough, we can handle it."

"Ok….Ok….Whatever the girl said is true. Oliver was there in the warehouse….the evidence is right there in front of you….and I found blood, Oliver's blood. A lot of it. He must have been wounded severely because evidently, he was bleeding profusely. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he went into hypovolemic shock because it."

The room was charged with a nervous air. A weight of anxiousness. And the pressure was almost tangible, and Barry felt he would crumble under it.

Felicity was chewing her thumb nail nervously as she hung on to every word that he said. Laurel had a deep frown on her face. Her shoulders were tense and she was wringing her fingers. Anxiety was getting the better of everyone today.

"So where is Oliver? Is he dead? Is he injured? Where is he?" asked Laurel.

"There was no body, so stands to reason that he is out there, somewhere. He is injured, that much I am sure of. But all these evidence are inconclusive. All they tell us is what transpired inside the warehouse prior to the explosions. I don't know what happened after that. There is a possibility that he succumbed to his injuries. But like I said, it's all substantial." explained Barry.

"So, Oliver is out there, injured, fighting for his life. We have to find him!" Felicity jumped in. "Did you run the facial recognition?"

"Yes, I did. But there is-"

"No, no, I don't wanna hear it. Oliver is out there, and we have to find him. He is banking on us."

Barry sighed. Felicity was on a single track now, oblivious to everything. All that was on her mind now was saving Oliver at any cost. She rushed towards her computer and started punching on the keyboard frantically.

He looked at Laurel. She seemed conflicted, somewhat confused by the unfolding events.

"Laurel?" he called.

She looked at him with eyes brimming with fear. All Barry wanted to do was console her. And then suddenly in a matter of seconds, the fear in her eyes were replaced by something else - determination.

"Don't worry Barry. He is out there. I can feel it. And if anyone can find him, it's Felicity." she said and moved towards Felicity to see what she was up to.

Barry marveled at the strength and determination that the women had. It was almost scary how they handled the situation with such soft and surgical hands. It seemed to him that a situation like this was quite pedestrian for them.

It was the city. Starling was a rough and tough place to grow up in. And the people living here were stronger for it. To adapt to this place, they had to be stronger, rougher and tougher. It was ingrained in them. It was in their blood. They had to fight for their survival.

He might have superpowers but he knew better than anyone to never pick a fight with the ladies of Starling, especially Laurel since she intimidated him the most. She was the ADA of this bent city, for crying out loud.

"Barry!" called Felicity. "I need access to the STAR Labs mainframe. I need eyes on the streets of Central City. Punch in the password."

Barry sighed. Oliver's whereabout and his status quo was still unknown, and it would have to remain so for the time being. According to the evidence he had coalesced together, the perpetrators were still loose. And they were not to be taken lightly. They had put the Arrow out of commission, so they had some serious horse power under the hood.

"Felicity…listen to me. Facial recognition has been running since you called last night. So far no result. Even you can't rush that."

"I know that but I need eyes on the videos. I need to see for myself. He is out there."

"I understand that. But you don't need to sit in front of the computer staring at live footages of people walking and car zooming by. It's a waste of time. There are other areas which could benefit from your expertise."

She whirled around and glared at him. "Like what?"

"Like finding the kidnappers. Oliver may be sidelined but the criminals won't hold their breath for his return."

Felicity remained silent.

"And how do we do that? We don't have any motive for the kidnapping. The only lead we had literally went up in smoke with Oliver. We don't have a starting point." said Laurel.

"There was some kind of foul play involved in the warehouse." said Barry.

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock! Oliver is missing and most probably dead." retorted Felicity.

"That's not what I meant, Felicity."

Felicity was going to say something derisive again, but Laurel put her hand on shoulder prompting her to deflate her misplaced anger. Felicity looked up at her and some sort of mutual agreement passed between them. She slumped back in her seat and crossed her arms like an angry five-year-old.

Laurel turned her attention back to him. "What have you got Barry? Give it to me straight. No bullshit."

"I think these guys are professionals…..They aren't your dime a dozen thugs. They were hired by someone up in the food chain." said Barry.

"That's plausible. Mayor makes a lot of enemies every day. Maybe he pissed off some mobster." said Laurel. "But what does that have to do with Oliver?"

"And those guys botched up the kidnapping too. It was a sloppy attempt. The girl escaped." pipped in Felicity.

"Because Oliver intervened." said Laurel.

"Yeah, but there are a lot of things that don't add up." said Barry.

"Like what?" asked Laurel.

"Like the bomb…The place was rigged with explosives. Not very powerful, but enough to take out the warehouse. Now, why would they do that?"

"Maybe they demanded a ransom…..and the bomb was just to scare the Mayor so that he could rustle up the money without trying anything stupid. Trust me, nothing keeps your head in the game than a bomb." jumped in Felicity.

"No,no, they didn't. There was no ransom call. The DA's office was in the loop. I would have heard something otherwise." said Laurel.

"Okay…so the girl was kidnapped and no ransom call was made. Oliver went there to intervene. There were bombs in the warehouse. And the kidnappers were pros. That's all we have…..and none of them makes any sense." said Felicity.

It was indeed a puzzling situation. They had all the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle but had not even the slightest inkling of how to arrange them. The pieces were floating in the air, mocking them.

"Laurel….I didn't find any red flag in the Mayor's background check that would prompt someone to hire professionals. He seems clean. But we both know that we shouldn't judge a book by it's cover. Did you hear anything through the grapevine over the years? Anything that might have suggested his involvement with the mob?" asked Felicity.

"Nope…the Mayor came into the office with a sparkling record. There was no rumor whatsoever regarding his involvement with anyone. His campaign was clean. There wasn't any dirty money. He was thoroughly vetted. So I don't see anything that could have prompted this kidnapping."

Felicity nodded, disappointment showing on her face. "So it wasn't someone from his past. It wasn't regarding his post, or they would have demanded something, which they didn't. So what was it? What's the connection?"

"I might have something." pipped Barry.

"What?"

"I don't know if it will be of use. I ran with it but it didn't pan out."

"Regardless Barry….humor me."

"I found blood samples in the warehouse." said Barry.

"Blood samples? Whose?" asked Laurel.

"One of them was Oliver's. That's how I knew he was there."

"How many more did you find?"

"Two more…I think they belong to the perps." said Barry.

"What? You are telling this to us now! You should have led with that." barked Felicity.

Barry grimaced. "Sorry. But I thought that it was irrelevant since it didn't pan out. I ran it against the police database, the DMV database, military database, basically all the databases that you hooked us up with."

"And?"

"Nothing, nada. This paucity of information only strengthened my suspicion that maybe they weren't employed by criminals," said Barry.

"Maybe they just aren't on the grid." reasoned Laurel.

"That is impossible Laurel. These guys had to have started somewhere. There has to be a record somewhere. Unless they were wiped off." explained Barry.

"That's impossible! A hypothetical situation. A hacker's dream. You just can't wipe yourself off the grid. That stuff is fiction. There is always a record lying around somewhere in the corner. Birth certificate, driver's license. You…you fall ill, go to the hospital and bam….you are in the grid. Your health records, blood type, everything. Social security number etc. There is nowhere to hide." said Felicity.

Barry frowned. They were dealing with some major players here, who were no doubt backed by certain powerful individuals or organizations. Perhaps an institution. And which was the most powerful institution in the world right now?

"Felicity….you said that one can't hack themselves off the grid. You can't remove yourself from the outside. But what if you are on the inside…." said Barry.

Felicity's brows crinkled. "What do you mean?"

"These guys…they are good. And they are invisible. Ghosts. No records, nothing. So there has to be someone behind them pulling the strings. Some powerful individual or perhaps an organization, who could wipe off their history and identity. A powerful organization." said Barry.

He looked at both of them, hoping that they would quickly catch on to what he was trying to say. It was really clear now.

Both of them had a frown on their face. "I don't know where you are going with this Barry," said Laurel.

"Guys….come on. You know which is the most powerful institution in the world right now. You can't wipe it from the outside, but you certainly can wipe it from the inside." explained Barry.

The frown on Felicity's face remained for about two seconds and then her brows jumped up to her hairline. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "Of course! Holy shit! Why didn't I see it? You are right, Barry."

"What? What is it?" asked Laurel.

Felicity looked at her and explained, "The most powerful institution in the world - the US government. Someone high up there must have wiped off the records. Fuck! This is huge….colossal even."

"Woh! Hold your horses…..The US government. That is ridiculous. Why would they hire pros to kidnap a mayor's daughter? In fact, why would they want to kidnap anyone?" asked Laurel incredulously.

"I don't know. I am not even sure it's them. I was just thinking out loud. But if you think about it, it somehow makes sense. But I don't know in what context." said Barry.

"Well, it's an outrageous allegation. You mean to say that our country is conspiring against it's own people? You could be jailed for accusing your country of such act. And if by any chance these allegations were true then you need proof to back it up, finding which up until now has been impossible." said Laurel.

Barry nodded reluctantly. Laurel had a point. These were serious allegations, which he wasn't even sure of. Sure, at some level it made sense. The nonexistent records of the personnel were only conducive to the actions of individuals whose reach went to the top of the line. But there was no way to prove it. What mess had Oliver gotten himself into this time?

"Barry, do you have the blood samples?" asked Felicity all of a sudden.

"No, they were irrelevant so I didn't bring them."

"Shit! Do you remember the genetic markers?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Why?"

"I just had an idea. I have access to the ARGUS database. And they are one of the top secret government organizations. There is nothing they don't know. They have information about everything. I bet you my right hand that we will get the records in there."

Barry nodded. "Let's do it."

Felicity looked at Laurel, who had a frown on her face. She seemed to be deep in her thoughts doing some laborious calculations, trying to find the best possible way to approach the problem.

Then she sighed. "Ok…let's give it a shot."

Felicity whirled around and started punching on her keyboard frantically. There was a gleeful look on her face.

"I am in! Barry come here quick. Enter the markers."

Barry did.

The screen turned blurry and then a window popped up. One the right-hand side was the markers he had typed in, and on the left side all the DNA markers in the database flitted by. Felicity's program ran in the background hastening the process of finding the right match.

The markers skipped by faster than any eye could follow, well, not so much for Barry than for the others.

This continued for ten minutes and then-

 _Beep, beep, beep…_

"Gotcha!" Felicity exclaimed pointing at the monitor.

They had found a match, for both the markers.

"I told you they were in the database. Barry, you were right. They belong to the government." said Felicity.

Barry moved closer to get a better look at the information that had popped up. There wasn't anything of relevance. Most of the information regarding these individuals were redacted, even their names. There were no pictures. It seemed to him that these individuals were very important since so much care and discretion was put into the matter.

"Subject 049 and subject 050." said Laurel. "What do you think they are? Patients or lab rats?"

Felicity scoffed, "Does it have to be one or the other? We know ARGUS is a dubious organization. All of the governments more brazen and overreaching projects are run through them. Maybe they have cooked up some kind of monster in their lab and it has run free, and they are trying to cover it up."

"Well, we won't know until we dig deeper. Can you hack further into that?" asked Barry.

Felicity shook her head in negation. "Nope, sorry. Even I have my limits."

"We need to know more. This is outrageous. Is this where all our taxes go? Lab experiments to create monsters. We need evidence, we need proof. We need to blow the lid off this." puffed Laurel.

"How?" Barry asked.

Laurel smiled. "We have an ace up our sleeve. Felicity, call John. We need Lyla."

Then she turned to him. "Barry, thanks for your help. We are indebted to you. We can handle things from here. You go back to Central City and go about your business. Keep an eye out for Oliver, in case, he turns up. And in the mean time, be wary of phones, computers, emails. If the government is involved, then they have eyes everywhere. Upgrade the security system of Star Labs."

Barry nodded and got up. "If I find anything on Oliver, I will call you."

Laurel shook her head vigorously. "No, don't call. It isn't safe. Run over. Tell it to the others too. Ok."

Barry nodded and sprinted out of the hideout and eventually out of Starling City.

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Author's note - Thank you for the follows, favorites and the reviews.

Now this story is going steady. I am exploring the relationships between characters hardly seen on the shows. And Arrow just plummeted in my books again. They killed off LAUREL! The last scene was heart breaking. I don't know what DC are up to. BVS sucked by the way. I hated that Zack Snyder destroyed DCEU even before it has begun. Many won't agree with me, I am sure, but I am entitled to my opinion. Anyway, PM me if you want to discuss it further.

Laurel is going to play an important part in the story. Now that Oliver is out of the team, I am thinking of juggling the leadership between Diggle and Laurel. Diggle has military training and Laurel has the intricate know hows of the streets and the law. They can complement each other and the team.

Well, that's it. PM me for queries and don't forget to drop reviews.


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER - 18

The car slowed down as it rolled past a dilapidated building. Slowly but surely it turned and entered into the alley adjoining the building.

The alley was dirty and unhygienic. The stink of piss was prevalent here as was the feeling of despondency. The car splashed over a puddle and came to a stop. The rear door opened and a man stepped out. This man was in his early thirties. He had a beak-like nose and a ferocious glint in his eyes. His lips were as thin as a wire and his chin was clean shaven. The sun shone off his olive skin.

Empirically no one would peg him as a terrorist. He looked more like someone working at Wall Street than someone who slaughtered people for a living. This was a man of many talents though. This was a man who had travelled to every country and killed in half of them. In his odd thirty so years he had seen a lot. This was a man who was not to be trifled with.

The man shut the car door and took in his surrounding. The smell and the gloominess could hardly deter his spirits. He had been in worse places and slept in worst conditions. And this place didn't even rank up there with the others. He wouldn't even spare this place a second thought. But the Master had been clear about his wishes, and he was here to do his bidding.

There was a storm coming

And he was going to be the one to unleash it.

He looked left and right, checking out the place for any anomaly, something which stuck out like a sore thumb. That was what he was trained to do. That is the predisposition of his mind all these years later.

The alley was quite. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Except for the sharp stench, the potholes filled with soiled water and the litters. There was a large dumpster few meters away and it wasn't hard for him to imagine what could be inside it. Beer cans, shattered glass, domestic wastes, leftover foods, used condoms etcetera. It was the same everywhere.

He let these trivial thoughts slip out of his mind and concentrated on the back door of the building he was about to enter. He was here to attend an important meeting regarding the future of the city.

He ran his hand through his slick oily hair, out of habit, and entered the building.

The door was unlocked. Just as he had instructed.

The meeting was to be held on the first floor. So he climbed the stairs and entered the first door.

The room was cavernous. Bright light was streaming in from the huge window on the east side of the room. The window overlooked the busy street, as they could hear cars and people walking by. There was a small square table in the middle of the room with four chairs beside it. Just like he had ordered. Other than that there was nothing of significance in the room. It was huge and ugly, and the drab gray paint didn't do anything to help it either.

The only thing of interest in the room were the 15 people. They were huddled in groups of three, murmuring intensely amongst themselves. And they had failed to notice his presence.

He straightened the lapels of his jacket and cleared his throat loudly.

The murmuring stopped and a heavy silence dropped on the room.

Heads turned and 15 pairs of eyes were trained at him.

"Who the hell are you?" came a voice in thick Russian accent from the left hand corner of the room.

His eyes skittered over to the Russians as he tried to find the speaker. A man from between them stepped forward. He was tall and thickset. His presence radiated power. His shirt strained against his chest and biceps. His face was rough and uneven, as though someone had punched him there repeatedly over his lifetime and deformed it. His eyes were small, ratty and unintelligent.

The man immediately sized up the Russian. Sure he was stronger and bigger, but he also looked dumb. He wouldn't make a clever fighter as opposed to a strong fighter. But he wasn't here to pick a fight today.

"I presume you represent the Bratva today.", said the man in a clear voice. His accent couldn't be placed; it's wasn't from any particular place.

The Russian smiled, showing his crooked teeth. "The Brotherhood doesn't take lightly to outsiders using our name in the light of day."

"Not to worry. I mean no harm. I am the one who called this meeting today. It is really appreciated that there is no truancy." said the man surveying the room.

"And we don't appreciate spending even a second in the same room as our competition!" barked a voice from the other corner of the room.

He looked around as an Asian woman stepped forward. She was unusual, to say the least. Tall, lithe and muscular - a femme fatale. She was beautiful and there was fire in her eyes. She swept her silver hair out from her eye and spoke, "Who the hell do you work for?"

The situation was escalating out of hand. But the man had accounted for this when he had asked the three rival gangs of Starling City to convene here. It was all going according to plan.

"Ah! Chin Na Wei! I am happy you could join us. All of you." said the man. "Now that we are off ceremonious grounds, can we proceed?"

He moved forward and sat down at the head of the table, gesturing at the others to take their seat as well.

But none of them did. They stood their ground, tense and motionless.

The man sighed. "There is not much I can tell you. One of which is my name. But I can say that I work for an organization older than this country. We are a powerful organization and we are everywhere. My master sent me here with a business proposal for you. Something which could be mutually beneficial."

A slight murmuring began.

"What kind of proposal?", asked the Russian.

"The kind that gets you back your territories. All you have been doing is struggling. Once upon a time, you ruled the place. All of you. Racketeering, extortion, human trafficking, prostitution, drug trafficking, so on and so forth. Everything was on the up and up. But that is not the case now, is it?"

He looked at the Columbians huddled furthest from where he was seated. "The Columbian cartel. Your cocaine was the best in the city. School kids to politicians, everyone snorted your goods. You had the city eating out of your hands. But now, everything has evaporated. Your business, drugs. The Arrow shifted your kilter and drove you back to the depraved hole whence you came."

The Columbians growled at him in anger for dredging their name through mud. But it was necessary. A fire had to be lit under them. The city had to be taken by force.

"And then there is the Russians." he said looking pointedly at the thickset Russian and his lackeys. "Racketeering, extortion, kidnapping, arms trafficking, money laundering, smuggling, bribery. The list doesn't stop. Even the Triad had a hard time competing against you. The city practically belonged to you. Everybody feared you. Even the cops thought twice before laying foot on your turf. But now…now you hide with your tail between your legs…..Look at them people!…The Russians have been neutered. My master knew your fathers and grandfathers back in the day. He says they were brave men…but you. You are cowards! Weak! Your children will spit on your grave!"

The Russian was getting pissed by every passing second. His beady eyes were getting clouded with unbridled rage. His face contorted and the veins on his neck were taut and on the verge of popping. He snarled like an angry dog and charged at the man with his hefty arm raised, no doubt looking to tear him from limb to limb.

The man had been expecting it; in fact he wanted it. The criminals in this city had been hiding in the shadow for too long. They were hiding from a man who resorted to methods which weren't unlike their own. He was here to incite action. To pull them out of this rut. And for that to happen he needed to excite them.

The Russian crossed the distance between them with three gigantic strides and launched himself at the man. On paper it should have been an one sided affair. The Russian had an advantage of four inches and twenty pounds on him.

But that was not the case though. On the field, experience trumped phenotypic advantages every time. The man was out of his chair in the blink of an eye. He nimbly ducked beneath the swinging arm and retaliated with a swift kick to the knee. The Russian yelped and collapsed on one knee. But this did not stop the man. He needed to make a statement, an example out of this. He punched the Russian square on his nose, breaking it with a sickening crunch. He howled in pain, and tried to claw at the man who grabbed his hair and banged his head twice on the edge of the table. The Russian slid to the floor and stopped moving. He was out cold.

The man looked at his handiwork. It was neat and efficient, and he hadn't even broken a sweat. He looked up at the crowd. They were staring at him with wide eyed awe and fear, and it suddenly warped into rage.

One of the Russian's lackey tried to rush him, "Why you little-" , but Chin Na Wei stopped him.

"Wait!" , she screeched. "I want to hear the man out."

The Russian's stiffened and looked a her, but her attention was fixated on the man, who found himself smirking.

 _Good. She has come to her senses. She will make everyone see reason._

"That's a very good decision." said the man. "Pull up a chair. Your future is about to change."

Chin Na Wei pulled up a chair and plopped down on it, but the others didn't move. They were still skeptical and kept their distance.

"Speak." she ordered. " What exactly do you want?"

The man took a deep breath and spoke, "I want the exact same things as you."

"Which is what exactly?"

"I want to give you back what was snatched from you. I want to give you back your territories so that you can resume your operations."

"Oh yeah! What's in it for you?"

"Nothing, except your goodwill and some order in the city."

She was doing some deep thinking, he could tell. She was still skeptical. That was the business after all. Trust wasn't a commodity which was sold for a nickel here. Everything depended on mutual benefits and interest.

"And how do you plan on achieving that?"

"Well with nothing too dramatic if that's what you are thinking. Few bullets and barrels of gas will suffice. Starling deserves a better class of criminals. It's time we gave them that."

"And I am just going to take your word for it? How do I know that you aren't just another loud mouth waiting for his chance at glory?" she asked.

"You don't! But know that my boss is a man of his word. He is the leader of an organization as old as time and has never failed to follow through on his word." praised the man.

"Look señor, we hear you. You are right. Business is not what it once was. It isn't what it was two years ago. But we are OK aren't we? I mean we aren't totally washed out, we still have customers. We still have peddlers out on the streets. Some cops on our side. Believe me, we don't need your help." said one Columbian.

"And you are satisfied with what you have. Do you not wish to relive the glory days? You don't know what you are missing until you have it. Do you want to live under the reign of a madman who has besieged your operations? The Arrow has made your life miserable for you. He is the reason your are hiding in the shadows. He is the reason why you people wanted to meet in the light of day. But I can help you. I can kill him."

Chin Na Wei scoffed at him openly and a chuckle spread across the Russians, Columbians and the Triad alike.

"Believe me."said Chin Na Wei. "You are not the first one to promise that. People have tried. No one could take him out. He is a slippery bastard, that one."

It was time for him to chuckle. "The Arrow has already been taken care of. He won't bother you any more. Check the news if you want."

Chin Na Wei gave him an incredulous look.

"Come on check it out! It wouldn't hurt now, would it? It's all over the news. Pull out your phones, people."

Immediately phones came out of everyones pocket. Chin Na Wei's fingers danced across her's furiously and her brows furrowed in concentration as her eyes roved over the screen.

After about five minutes, the phone dropped out of her hand, and an expression of disbelief graced her face.

"You son of a bitch! You actually pulled it off. The Arrow is gone. The kidnapping, the fire…it was all you?"

The man nodded. "Like I said my master is a very resourceful person. There is nothing that he can't accomplish."

Chin Na Wei sighed. It seemed that she was having a hard time believing it. The Arrow had been a thorn in the side for the Triad. But now that it has been plucked, their operations could resume again.

"So what now?" she asked.

"I scratched your back. You scratch mine."

She thought for a minute and then relented. "Fine. I am sold. What can the Triad do for you?"

The man shook his head. "No, this doesn't work until I have everyone on board. Go big or go home."

He looked at the Russians and the Columbians, who were deep in thought.

He had to weave them in. Remove their doubts and cajole them to join his cause.

"You won't get what you want until you join the cause." he said. "We take the city by force tonight. And tomorrow, you will live in a brand new world which will run by your rules. But tonight, you have to stand with us. Tonight we will knock down the very symbol of oppression - Iron Heights prison. Let me help you people. I want to liberate you. I want to give the city back to you."

He finished his speech as though an orchestra had just pulled off a crescendo which had led to an unnatural silence being spread across the audience. But in this case it was him trying to sway the mobsters to see things his way.

"So you are talking about anarchy?" asked a Russian.

"Anarchy, freedom, liberation, label it however you want. Starling has to be taken from the rich and the corrupted. They will be cast out in the harsh and cold world were we have thrived for so long. Judgement shall be called upon them. You will all get your territories back. And there won't be any authorities to answer to."

"But what about the cops?"

"If everything goes according to plan then the cops will have something else to worry about. We will stretch them thin."

"What about those vigilantes?" asked Chin Na Wei. "I swear, they are a dime a dozen these days. Won't they intervene?"

"The Arrow is out of commission. His lackeys can only do so much. A snake is harmless without it's teeth. Trust me, they won't be a problem."

"That's a lot of trust you are asking from us. In our line of work it's a luxury, which we cannot afford. It's bad for business." said the Russian.

The man smirked. "You don't have to trust me. Go to Starling port right now. Crates 7E102, 7H104 and 7J105. One crate for each of you. Take it to your base and arm yourself. Tonight we storm the castle and free your brothers and sisters. Wait for my signal."

Saying that the man pushed up from the chair.

"Wait! What signal?"

"Look up for a smoke. That is when you start for Iron Heights."

The man turned and in a few sure steps exited the room, leaving behind a group of befuddled and perplexed criminals.

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Time wasn't moving or so it seemed. It was like that fateful night when the Gambit had capsized. Everything was chaotic and overwhelming. He was trying to stay afloat but his strength was slipping out of him. He fought against the tumultuous and angry waves as he tried to stay afloat. He couldn't hold his breath any longer. The waves crashed into him and pushed him under. Every muscle in his body was on fire; they were screaming in pain. He splashed harder with his last reserve of energy, but it was in vain. At last he let go and he slipped beneath the surface, into the darkness.

 _Ollie…..Ollie…wake up….._

A clear feminine voice rang through his mind. It infused him with life and hope. Suddenly he wasn't tired anymore.

 _Ollie…my beautiful boy….wake up…._

He recognized the voice; he would recognize it anywhere.

"Mom…." he said out aloud.

 _Yes…you have to wake up. They need you….Wake up Ollie…._

It was his mother. His eyes filled up with tears.

"Mom…I am so sorry I couldn't save you…." he choked out. There was a weight in his chest which was squeezing his heart.

 _Don't be…..don't hold on to the past Ollie….they happen for a reason and are not to be dwelled upon…..it's the present that matters…you have to wake up…._

"I can't. I am so tired…..so tired of fighting, so tired of losing…..I want to sleep…I can't do it anymore…"

 _Yes, you can….you have to….you are my son. The same boy who cried for weeks and refused to eat just because his dog died. You are a very compassionate boy….and you have a good heart. You hate to see people in pain…..and there is going to be a lot of it if you don't wake up…_

Turbulent sobs raked through him, as he felt the weight in his chest lessen.

"How do I wake up?"

 _Believe Ollie. Believe. Believe that everything is going to be alright…and most of all believe in yourself…..you can do this…Wake up, Ollie. Wake up…_

This bolstered his spirits and made him believe. The last reserves of doubt ebbed away as hope seeped into his heart. This thought buoyed him upwards.

He could do this. He could save them all.

"Mom…stay with me…" he whispered.

 _I am always with you, my boy. In your heart, in your soul. We are always with you….you just have to believe…_

Her voice was fading away and instead a sharp noise was ringing in his ears. There was somebody else calling him. He couldn't recognize the voice. It was muffled. Like the faint echoes from a dream.

"Oliver….Oliver….wake up…."

He could feel that someone shaking him. And the voice was getting louder every second.

"Oliver, wake up. You were thrashing around. You will hurt yourself. Wake up."

Oliver opened his eyes, and everything was hazy.

"Oh! Good. You are awake."

Someone was hovering over him but he couldn't identify who it was. His vision was blurry and there were tears stinging his eyes. The hauntingly beautiful voice of his mother still echoed in the recesses of his mind.

He blinked repeatedly trying to rid himself of the grogginess. He tried to move but couldn't; something was restricting it.

Slowly, his vision cleared. He was lying on a bed and his whole body was covered in bandages and gauzes. His left arm was in a sling.

"Oliver….how do you feel?"

He looked at the person standing beside him. And recognition dawned on him.

It was Caitlyn. And her eyes were filled with concern.

"Caitlyn…." ,he croaked. "Water…."

His throat was parched. Caitlyn handed him a sipper from the nightstand. He sucked at it liberally.

"Where am I?" ,he asked.

"You are at Sarah's home. Don't you remember? You came here."

"Sarah?"

"Sarah Conner. She said you knew each other from way back."

 _Sarah Conner._

The name rung a bell and everything came rushing back. The kidnapping of the Mayor's daughter, him coming to Central City to follow a lead, meeting Caitlyn and Sarah, the warehouse, Waller, the Suicide Squad, Tommy and his mother. The last 24 hours had been strenuous, to put it mildly. He had been through the grind. But his work wasn't done. He had to warn Barry about Waller's nefarious plans.

"Caitlyn! Listen to me….I need to tell you something." said he.

"Oliver…stop! Don't exert yourself. The wounds are still tender. The stitches might open." warned Caitlyn.

He looked down at himself. His left hand was in a sling. There were bandages across his bare chest and stomach. His face felt heavy. He lifted his hand and touched his face. There were sutures on his forehead and heavy gauzes were lumped on his nose.

"How bad are they?" he asked, gesturing at the wounds.

"They are bad. But nothing that will kill you. The worst is the one on your shoulder. That was really stupid of you. You shouldn't have pulled that arrow out."

He chuckled. "Well, my life has been a series of stupid decisions. But thanks for saving me. I don't know what would have happened to me if not for you."

"I am not the one you should be thanking. It was all Sarah. She was the one who found you passed out on her fire escape. You gave her quite the scare, you know. She found me and convinced me to come and help you. I wanted to take you to the hospital straight away, but she fought against it tooth and nail. You owe her your life. She was a real hero."

He wasn't surprised at all. He knew that Sarah was a compassionate person. And them sharing a history only helped his cause. He was right to have come here. She could have called the cops on him, but didn't. Instead at great personal cost she sought Caitlyn out on his instruction.

"I knew she would look after me. By the way, where is she?"

"At work. She should be back any minute now."

"Ok….what's the time now?"

"It's quarter past one. You slept for about thirteen hours straight. You should feel rejuvenated now in spite of your injuries." said Caitlyn.

"Yeah, I feel like I could take on an army. In fact, I don't even feel my injuries."

Caitlyn chuckled. "Yeah, that would be the morphine talking. Now that you are awake I am going to lower the drip. Brace yourself for the pain."

"Wait! Not now. It's isn't really bothering me. I need to tell you somethings. Some very important things."

Caitlyn's brows furrowed. She pulled a chair from behind her and brought it closer to his bed. Then she settled down on it.

"Go ahead."

"Ok…what I am about to tell you will make me sound like all of those conspiracy theory nuts. It may sound fictitious but it's true. You have to trust me." said Oliver.

"Oliver….just tell me. I can't decide unless I know what it is."

Oliver took a deep breath. He had to pass this on. Barry was in trouble and so were other heroes, whose existence he wasn't even aware off. He needed to save them. They needed to know. And most of all he had to find them. They had to band together if they wanted to fight this faceless enemy. And Caitlyn and STAR Labs had better chance of doing so.

So he launched into the story. He began from the morning, right after meeting her. He told her about the warehouse and how he infiltrated it. He told her about how he found the girl drugged and tied to the chair. He told her about how Amanda Waller, the director of ARGUS, accosted him there. He revealed to her Waller's nefarious plans and how she wanted to kill him. He also told her about the file that the government were keeping on the enhanced people. Caitlyn's eyes grew wide at that.

"What the fuck?" she swore. "Do they have one on Barry?"

He looked at her pointedly; his silence speaking volumes.

"Holy shit!" she swore again. "Do they know that Barry is the Flash?"

"I don't know. But we have to assume the worst."

Caitlyn nodded. The worry still evident on her face.

He started speaking again. He told her about Waller's pact with the President; how he, apparently, was an embarrassment that the government could no longer tolerate. He told her about Waller's death squad, how they almost took him out and how he survived. He left out the part about Tommy and his mother though. By the end of it, Caitlyn was clearly perturbed.

"Holy mother of God! Oliver! This is outrageous. We have to get it out. To the press." shrieked Caitlyn.

"Where is the proof? And who is gonna believe us? There is no credibility to the story. I am an ex-billionaire who couldn't hold on to his company and whose mother tried to destroy a city, and don't forget a vigilante by night. And you are a scientist of the disgraced STAR Labs, which is responsible for the misery that has blanketed Central City for the past year."

Caitlyn sighed in defeat. "So do you think they have hacked into the STAR Labs server and opened a back door?"

"I have no idea what that means. But I don't think they _hacked_ STAR Labs. Waller didn't mention anything about STAR Labs. She only mentioned the Flash. Bring Barry with you the next time you come over. He needs to know." said Oliver.

"Okay, I will bring him. But Oliver, this is outrageous. A complete and appalling exploitation of power and authority. This undermines the foundation and the beliefs on which our nation was built. A nation conspiring against it's own subjects. And we can't even do anything about it." rued Caitlyn.

"Doing nothing doesn't necessarily means giving up. We don't have a clear shot at them now. We must wait our turn. We will get them later. In the meantime I want you to run something that Waller mentioned."

"What?"

"Waller mentioned some other _enhanced_ or super powered people that the government is currently keeping tabs on. I want you to find them. They need to know. Increase the security in STAR Labs. Take Felicity's help if you have to. Find them Caitlyn. Find them."

"Okay…okay…enhanced people, got it. I will have Dr. Wells look into it right away."

Suddenly alarms blared in Oliver's head.

"No! Not Wells. Don't mention anything to Wells about this."

Caitlyn frowned at this. "Why not? What's wrong with Wells?"

"There is something off about the guy. I don't know but he rubbed me the wrong way the last time I saw him. I just don't trust him." explained Oliver.

"Oliver, you just met the guy once. You can't base your judgement on one meeting." said Caitlyn.

"Trust me Caitlyn. It only takes one meeting for me to read someone. I know whom I can trust and whom I can't. I met you once but I trusted you with my life last night. And I just don't trust the guy….so please, I beg you. Just keep it between us. Include Cisco if you have to. He is a very resourceful guy. Other than that don't breathe a word about it to anyone. Okay?"

Oliver waited holding his breath. Caitlyn was clearly conflicted about it, and he was asking her to betray the trust of a colleague whom she had known a lot longer than she had him. Her eyes were dark and brows furrowed. Then the creases on her face relaxed and she said. "Fine…I will listen to you for now. But if this thing goes south and harms any of us then I am going to Wells with this."

Oliver held up his hand. "Fair enough. Be very careful though. Don't mention anything about me to anyone except for Barry, not even my team. I can't risk this information leaking out. I need to lay low. There is too much heat out there and I am in no position to take it. Too many people on my back. We have to assume that they are watching our every move. Our phones may be tapped. So be very careful about what you speak on it. Use your own comm system if you can. That way they will have difficulty tracking you.."

"Okay….got it. Anything else?" she asked.

"Nope….nothing I can think of off the top of my head, but just be extra cautious. And find them. Understood?"

"Yeah….and you need to fidget less. You will open up the stitches…" chastised Caitlyn.

"I can't help it…It's so itchy. And the bandages are stifling any movements. I hate the recovery part…"

Just then a door banged open somewhere outside their room. Oliver tensed in his place. After all these years this was a reflex action for him. He just couldn't help it.

Then a voice called, "Caitlyn! I am back…" , and he relaxed.

It was Sarah.

Then he heard a soft footsteps which went pitter - patter and then another slamming of a door.

"Connor! I told you to not slam the door…." yelled Sarah.

Oliver frowned.

 _Connor? Who the hell is Conner?_

He tilted his head and looked at Caitlyn questioningly. But her gaze wasn't fixed on him anymore. She was looking at the doorway and her whole body had tensed. And suddenly she leapt from her chair and scrambled out of the room.

Silence fell outside the room and then there was rapid and frantic whispering.

 _What the hell is going on?_

It was quite disconcerting for him. He couldn't help but wonder if something dubious was unfolding here. His body had gone rigid and he could feel the adrenaline sloshing through his bloodstream. He was going crazy. What was going on outside? Did Waller get to Caitlyn and Sarah as well? His paranoia had commandeered his rationality and a million scenario ran through his head, each as outrageous as the next. And if not for his injuries, he would have met this situation head on.

But all his worry were for naught, as Sarah suddenly walked in. Even though she carried herself in a sure and quick pace, he could make out that she was tired. She was dressed in a black pant suit and her hair was tied up in a bun. There were dark circles under her eyes and her face had somehow shrunken. He couldn't see the glow on her face that he had noticed yesterday, anymore. Her eyes skittered across him and he could make out the worry in her eyes. And this only augmented his discomfort.

"Hello Oliver." greeted Sarah. She gave him a wan smile which didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Hey. Look, I kept my promise this time. I told you I would be here and here I am." joked Oliver.

Sarah chuckled at that. "Yeah. Well this isn't exactly what I had in mind when I invited you but I will take what I get."

"Look Sarah, about all this. I am sorry that I dropped in on you like this. I know I brought in a whole world of trouble - "

"Oliver stop." she interrupted. "Before you say anything there is something I have to tell you."

Oliver suddenly felt the temperature plummet.

"What?"

She started wringing her hands. She seemed agitated about something.

"Sarah….what is it? Just tell me…" he begged.

She looked at him, her face drowning in worry. "Oh God Oliver! I shouldn't have kept this from you. It wasn't right."

"Sarah, what are you talking about?" asked Oliver clearly bewildered now.

She didn't reply and the grim expression still sat on her face. She made her way towards him. He noticed a slight hitch in her steps as though she was in pain. She plopped down on the chair which Caitlyn had occupied a few minutes ago.

"Oliver this is something I have been keeping from you for the last eight years." explained Sarah.

Oliver didn't reply but looked at her expectantly.

Her face had contorted and she was having difficulty speaking, but somehow she continued. "I never got the abortion."

It took him some time to realize what she was talking about, and when it sunk in he felt his heart stop. His mind went numb and apparently the shock was evident on his face.

"I can see how shocking this is for you. But Oliver it's time you knew. You have a son and his name is Conner."

And that is when Oliver Queen's world collapsed.

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Author's note - Thank you everyone for the follows, favorites and the reviews.

Another chapter has come through. It has taken me really long to write this chapter though. I had to do a lot of research for this. I wanted to include Intergang in this but pulled the plug on it at the last second. It would have been too complicated for me to handle. I hope you like the conversation between Oliver and Sarah and of course the revelation. I wanted to include an emotional aspect in this so I wrote that scene with Oliver and his mother. Hope that wasn't to corny or clićhed.

BTW please check out the Superman American Alien comic series. It is awesome and has got to be up there with some of the best. And I watched Civil War. Twice. It was frigging awesome. Maybe the best Marvel movie till now.

Please leave a review after reading it. I would really appreciate your insight. PM me with your queries.

Peace out


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER - 19

There was a time before and a time after. But for Captain Lance, everything happened in a flurry. One moment everything was kosher and the next all hell broke loose. It was overwhelming so to say and before he could wrap his mind around things he was already down for the count. They came from the shadow like phantoms - chanting and screaming. They took the city by storm. Chaos ensued amongst the raging infernos as the public all clambered into their homes for safety.

The day had begun just like any other. Except for the story of the Arrow's presumed death circling every news channel. He was a little disappointed that the vigilante's story had such an anticlimactic ending. But overall the day had been pretty inconsequential. He had spent the morning in Central City, helping out the police there and trying to ferret out some answers himself. But he didn't get any. So by evening he was back home.

That evening at eight he parked his car in the parking lot of SCPD and entered the building. It was a six - storied maroon structure build with nothing but bricks and mortar. It was of another generation standing grumpily amongst the newbies. It was arrogant, loud and brazen, like an old farmer with a cigar in his mouth and a gun in his hand. Scourge of evil and it did it in the light of day.

The lobby wasn't hustling and bustling with people anymore. The crowd had thinned. During the mornings, the SCPD was a powerhouse. It scarfed down everything and anything that came it's way. It was brash and loud like a beaten down engine which told the story of all the smooth and weathered road it had traveled.

But now during the nights when the darkness fell, the building had a humbling and a comforting presence. It was like a big brother watching over everyone. When people walked passed it and saw the lights burning through the window it filled them up with a sense of comfort and pride that Starling City's finest were looking out for them.

Captain Lance padded down the familiar path. His footsteps echoed through the cavernous hall. The arrangement in the lobby was simple. There were benches lined up beside the door for the waiting area, and just after that was where the desk sergeant sat. His table was cluttered with papers, pens and a thick record, which was lying open. Just behind the desk sergeant was the stairwell which led to the upper floors. There was an elevator too, but it had been busted for the last couple of weeks.

He nodded at the desk sergeant, who was dozing minutes ago, but was now upright and alert. He climbed the stairs to the second floor where his office was.

The second floor was comparatively more crowded than the lobby. It was a bullpen and there were about twenty people in the room. Some were slogging away on their paperwork, some were rifling through the heap of files on their desk and a couple of them were talking on the phone with a solemn expression on their face. No one noticed him. Everyone was engrossed in their work.

He was about to enter his office when he heard a commotion coming from the stairwell. Everyone dropped their work and looked at towards it.

It was Melvin and apparently he had made an arrest. He was shoving the perpetrator in front of him, bringing him near the cubicles. The perp was lean and of average height. He was dressed in a tacky shirt with faded jeans which was stripped at the knees. But what stood out were the angry red marks splashed across his chest and thighs.

Blood.

 _Garden variety gangbanger._

He didn't notice it before but Melvin's face was contorted with rage. In fact, he was shaking. He slammed his knee into the back of the perp, hard, who collapsed on his knees. Then he punched him hard on the back of his head.

Alarms went off in Lance's head. This was unacceptable. Melvin was flagrantly abusing the power of the badge in front of twenty cops.

 _Fuck!_

A couple of guys nearest to him ran and tackled him. They restrained him and pulled him away from the perp. But this hardly seemed to deter him. He was hurling profanities at the fallen perp.

Lance stepped forward. " Hey! That's enough. This is outrageous."

But Melvin was hardly paying any attention to him. He hadn't even acknowledged his presence. He was glaring at the perp.

"Officer Melvin!" Lance barked. "Calm yourself!"

The man in question flinched and looked at him. The anger still danced in his eyes. He shrugged the others off of him and made a move for the perp again but Lance stepped in front of him.

"Enough Officer! Take one more step and I will suspend your ass." barked Lance forcefully.

This made him come to his senses. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face.

"Captain Lance." Melvin began. His voice was quivering. "Captain Lance….You don't understand. This asshole - "

But Lance wasn't having any of it. "Oh! I understand all right. I understand that you hit this guy. That too in front of twenty cops. His lawyer is gonna have a field day with this. Even if he killed the President he will be acquitted on a technicality now."

"Sir…please…let me explain. This sick motherfucker just stabbed a couple and their kid in front of me then nonchalantly came up to me and asked me to arrest him. There was no regret, no remorse. He didn't even flinch. He came out of nowhere and jumped them."

Melvin was trembling as he recounted the tale. It really surprised him how much of himself he could see in the young man right then. That same fire. That untamed passion. But the real world was putting a damper on it. The darkness and the evil out there had claimed the vitality, zest, and fervor of many young bloods who wanted to do some good. And young Melvin here was one of them. He appeared misguided.

"Captain…do whatever you want to me. I don't regret hitting this asshole."

Lance frowned. "You are hardly helping your case here, Officer."

"Sir…listen to me. You can't allow him to walk free. The boy, he was just a little kid. Maybe he was out to the fair with his parents or wanted to buy a toy he saw last week. There is nothing left of the kid. Only blood and an empty carcass. All his hopes and dreams, gone. The fire just fizzled out. Just like that. And that monster took it. He deserves worse than Iron Heights. I don't care if you kick me out or suspend me. I am just one man in this apathetic world. If I see injustice I can't help it. No matter what, I will always act."

Lance sighed. The situation had gone serious. The tension was palpable. He wouldn't be surprised if someone bought a meat cleaver to cut through it.

Melvin had heart, he would give him that. In this town this bent he was willing to stand up for what he believed in. That was rare in this apathetic town. But if Melvin wasn't given the proper guidance then he would tread down the path of those weekend warriors. And that was something this place didn't need.

Lance turned around and looked at the perp, hoping that the punch hadn't left any mark. But he didn't have to worry about that. The perp was already up and on his knees. His face was as blank as a white sheet and eyes were cold. And there was something else in his eyes which made his blood run cold. There was no fear in his eyes; just a cold, hard stare challenging him to do the worse.

Then the perp said something that made Lance want to hit him.

His lips tilted up in a smirk as he said, " Our master is coming. The reckoning is upon you. Three lives were lost today. A lot more will be lost in the days to come. And your predicament will be a whole lot worse if you resist. For every life you save we will kill a thousand more. There is nothing you can do to stop us….."

The guy finished his soliloquy and went quite. The whole room had gone quiet. They were disturbed by this, he could tell. Everyone was holding their breath for something dramatic to happen. Even he was perturbed to some extent. He hoped that someone would jump out from behind one of those cubicles and scream 'April Fool'. At least that would diffuse this situation.

And before he could do something a female sergeant came up to him.

"Sir…you have a phone call. It's urgent."

Lance nodded at her. He turned towards Melvin, "Book him for manslaughter."

He entered his office and picked up the phone.

"Hello."

 _"Captain Lance…this is the warden of Iron Heights speaking…..we are in big trouble here…..we are under atta-….need help…"_

Lance frowned and pressed the receiver harder to his ear.

"Your voice is breaking up. What is hell is going on?"

 _"…..under attack….prison break…..need immediate assistance…."_

And then all he could hear was beeping.

 _Shit! What the hell is going on down there?_

He sprinted out of his office and into the hall.

"Ok guys listen. Some kind of situation has developed in Iron Heights. We are going to check it out. I need five guys with me. So get your butts in gear." he bellowed across the hall.

Everyone turned their head towards him.

"What's going on sir?" someone asked.

"There appears to be some kind of problem at Iron Heights. The warden said that it was under attack or there was a prison break, I don't know which. But we should check it out."

"Sir, I am coming with you." Melvin pipped up.

"No, absolutely not. You have to process this scum. Do it properly and then put him in one of the empty holding cells. Call up a lawyer if he doesn't have one."

Melvin got subdued and disheartened as his shoulders slumped down. At that moment Lance felt for the guy. His face had shrunk like the setting sun, like it had been siphoned off of all the hope in the world.

"Hey…Melvin." Lance walked up to him. "Don't be disheartened. It was a good arrest. You did good. You should be proud of yourself."

Melvin gave him a wane smile.

"But that doesn't mean you can treat the perps with hostility. If I see that again I will be on your ass faster than the Flash. Followed?"

Melvin nodded.

"Okay then. Take this shit away from here and process him. I will talk to you when I get back."

Melvin roughly pulled the perp on his feet and shoved him out of the hall.

 _Now that was that._

Lance turned to the cluster of cops that had huddled behind him.

"We don't know what we are gonna be dealing with, so it is better if we are prepared. So suit up! Chop, chop. Meet me in the parking lot in fifteen."

Twenty minutes later, they were huddled in the parking lot beside an armored van and a cruiser.

"You guys know the drill. Follow it to the t. After reaching the scene, we do a quick assessment of the situation and try to establish contact with the warden inside. And don't act until I tell you to. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" everyone chorused.

"Then what the hell are you waiting for? Get your asses in the car."

Everyone scrambled off; heavy boots echoed across the deserted parking lot.

Lance yanked the straps and tightened his vest. He pulled his gun out , slid out the magazine, checked the bullets, slid it back in. Everything was fine.

He slid into the seat of the cruiser and slammed the door shut. He didn't know why but all of a sudden he could feel a modicum of fear welling up in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't put a finger to it. His sixth sense was blaring. But he shoved it down and let rationality take over. It was just a routine checkup.

The driver slid into the seat beside him. He put the key in the ignition and started the car.

As soon as the car started, Lance heard a deafening explosion come from his left. And before he could react he was rolling in the car as the force of the blast hurled the car away.

The force was immense. He could feel every bone in his body protesting against the shock. He couldn't stop it. He just kept rolling and rolling as the car kept on tumbling. After about two second the world came to a halt. He couldn't see. Everything was pitch black. He couldn't move. There was blood all over him. He could feel it oozing out of his forehead.

And suddenly weakness raked through him in waves..He hadn't felt so weak for a long time…..not since he got the news of Sara's death….he tried to fight it…but…but….it was so comfortable….it was peaceful….he was swimming and reveling in this ocean of tranquility…he saw Laurel 's and Sara's face flash..…he saw Dinah….it was going to be alright….everything was going to be alright…It was fine..

And then Captain Quentin Lance slipped into oblivion.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Officer Melvin was angry. More at himself than at the world. The world was unfair. That was the universal law. But he couldn't blame all his problems on the world. This one was all on him.

He shouldn't have lost his cool. It was a rookie mistake. He was the servant of the law. He had taken an oath to protect and serve. Misusing his powers only meant he was unworthy of the badge.

And on top of that he had managed to piss Captain Lance off with his antics. After witnessing what he had this evening, he thought it to be a rational one in spite of what Lance thought. He couldn't help it. The blood, the hate and the evil which manifested in the world was enough to sap anyone off hope.

He looked at the man sitting across from him. He was staring at him with those cold, dead eyes. His slender, blood - stained fingers were silently drumming on the metal table as the handcuffs clanked against it. His pale sickly face gave nothing away. And this calm and cold demeanor was freaking him out the most.

 _How could anyone be so evil?_

He pulled out the processing form and twirled the pen in his hand.

"Ok…tell me your full name." he addressed the perp.

The man in question remained quiet. No response. Not even a twitch.

"Hey!" Melvin barked. "I am talking to you. Your name?"

The perp's eyes twitched and a hint of a smile touched his thin lips.

"If you think you can intimidate me then you have another thing coming bruh.."

Melvin glared at him. "You are going to speak one way or the other. It's all up to you. How long do you think you can drag this?"

The perp chuckled. "You don't scare me….I have seen the devil and he is coming…"

"Maybe you are right. You don't need the pen. Maybe an asylum…We can find one where they still use shock therapy."

"Oh! You are a big shot man aren't you? Sitting on the other side? Enjoy it while it lasts….Because there is a storm coming and this tempest will send you cowering under your mommy's skirt…."

Suddenly the perp leapt out of the chair and dived at him from across the table. Melvin pushed back and fell on the floor, flat on his back.

The perp started yelling, the veins on his neck were almost at the verge of popping. "You cops think you are the boss of the city!…This city is dead….and every one of you will burn….You hear me…You will BURN….The devil is coming….The devil is….ahhhhhh!"

This time the perp screamed as though he was in pain and slid to the floor. Melvin pushed up and scrambled over to check on the perp. He was clutching his middle and thrashing around on the floor.

"HELP me! Please!" the perp shrieked like an animal. And his eyes were wide with terror.

"Oh GOD!The pain…..Help me!" the perp grabbed his shirt and yanked him down.

Melvin was helpless. He yelled at the top of his voice, "Hey! Someone get the paramedics down here!"

"Hey! HEY! Look at me…Where does it hurt?"

The perp yanked his tee up.

Melvin leaned in to look closer. He held the perp down to stop him from thrashing.

What he saw made him cringe in disgust. A long cut ran down his stomach. It wasn't exactly a cut, more of a cleft which down the middle of his stomach. It looked stitched up but it wasn't a professional job. He could tell. The flesh was still red and raw. It looked like they had just clipped the skin together. Whoever had done it had botched it up. It seemed that they were in a hurry and had pumped him up with lots of anesthesia and finished it in an hour.

Then suddenly he heard music. He swiveled around trying to discern where it was coming from. But he couldn't find it. Then he looked down at the perp's stomach and his blood ran cold.

 _What the fuck?_

It wasn't music. It was a ringtone. And it was coming from inside the perp. He noticed the halo of phone's screen.

 _It's inside his stomach!_

"Oh shit!" were the last words which escaped his mouth before the inferno leapt from within the perp's gut and engulfed him and the rest of the precinct.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I can't believe this! How much credibility does this speculation carry?" asked Lyla.

Laurel sighed. They were at their hideout. And for the last half hour they had been trying to break the scandalous news to Lyla. Once they had finished, she had slumped down on the nearby chair with eyes the size of tennis balls.

"None whatsoever." said Felicity.

"But what about the evidence Barry brought over?"

"Those all point to ARGUS. They might as well have put up a neon sign." explained Diggle.

"Are you sure it's ARGUS, though? There are lots of other covert organizations out there. It could easily be anyone of them. Oliver might have pissed them off during his _time away._ "

"Oliver must really have rotten luck if there are two organizations gunning for him at the same time." quipped Roy. He was seated on a stool cleaning his weapons.

Felicity whipped out her tablet and it to Lyla.

"Look at this. The DNA in the blood samples that Barry salvaged from the warehouse matched that of two subjects in the ARGUS database."

Lyla's eyes roved across the screen. "How did you access our database?"

"Yeah…about that…I may have left a back door there when I accessed it the last time." Felicity said sheepishly. "But that's beside the point. Right now, Lyla, we all are in deep shit and ARGUS is at the centre of it." she added.

Lyla shook her head. "But it is so….unfathomable."

Laurel jerked up from edge of the table she was leaning on. "Unfathomable? What's so unfathomable about this? It's as clear as day. ARGUS put out a hit on Ollie. The evidences may be riddled with holes but it is definitive."

Lyla was clearly in distress. There was a war raging inside her. She was having trouble reconciling with the whole situation. She was a patriot at heart. She had served in the army with honor and strength. She believed in the red, white and blue. Out on the battlefield everything was either black or white. Your enemy pops up on your iron sight, you squeeze the trigger, no questions asked. But in here it was a different ball game altogether. Amidst the politics and the bureaucracy, the delineation between the right and wrong often got blurred. In here, there were no friends or enemies. Anyone could stab you in the back and be done with it.

The US government had sanctioned a covert hit on the Arrow. And by the looks of things ARGUS was at the fulcrum, executing the whole operation with pin - point precision. The foundation on which the whole constitution was established had been crippled. The eagle of ' Truth, Justice and the American way' had unfurled it's wings and taken flight.

And it was unconscionable.

"I am not saying that ARGUS is innocent. Off the record, we have more skeletons in the closet than CIA. With Amanda Waller at the helm it is almost incumbent on our part that every decision that we take is for the greater good. But this is America we are talking about. Is this what this has come to? Sanctioned hits on it's own people. I don't know about you guys…but I need time to get my bearing right."

Diggle stepped forward and looked at her, "Hey Lyla…look at me…this job, it takes a lot from us. Sometimes it takes away our loved one's, sometimes it shakes us to the core. But we have a responsibility. We are soldiers, you and I. We have to serve and protect. We have to shrug it off and barrel forward…."

"Oliver is most probably dead. And we are the last line of defense this city has. We have to bring Oliver's killers to justice. If that means going to the White House and shaking down the President, then I am willing to do that. He was my friend. And they killed him."

Lyla understood how much this situation was affecting him. John was the first person that Oliver confided in. They shared a bond, which went deeper than friendship. Brother in arms. She took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"I am sorry John…I know he was like a brother to you…."

"He was my brother, period." said Diggle, his eyes burning with subdued rage. "And I am going to bring the fuckers down."

Lyla nodded. She didn't expect anything less.

And Oliver was her friend too.

"Ok….back to the business at hand. You want me to help you steal encrypted files from ARGUS?" Lyla addressed everyone.

"What? No!" exclaimed Felicity in mock outrage. "I want to help you steal encrypted files from ARGUS."

Laurel rolled her eyes at Felicity's attempt at levity.

Felicity handed Lyla a thumb drive. "This has a spyware in it. Plug it in Waller's computer. It will download everything from her hard drive."

"Will my presence be discovered?"

"Well not at once. And not by any layman. They will need to know what they are looking for to know that someone is in their system."

Lyla nodded. "Ok, I will do it. I will go now."

She had just reached the door when an alarm went off in the main computer.

"What the heck is that?" cried out Laurel.

Faster than the eye could follow, Felicity leapt at her computer. She glared at the screen and her fingers flew across the keyboard at the speed of light.

"Oh shit!" she swore.

Everyone huddled around her.

"What's the matter?" asked Diggle.

"Look at that…" she pointed at the screen urgently.

On the screen was a detailed map of Starling city. The roads all looped, twisted and interweaved around the buildings. There was the mayor's office at the centre, the police precincts were spread throughout, Starling University and many other significant building all cluttered in.

But the most noteworthy thing about it were the blinking red dots. There were seven of them in total. And all of them were on the precincts.

"What are those blinking dots?" asked Roy.

Felicity punched some keys.

"There has been explosions in the police precincts." relayed Felicity.

Laurel's head snapped at that. "Which one?" she asked, her voice an octave higher than usual.

She looked at Laurel. Her eyes were wide and she could make out the panic and the fear pooling in them.

"All of them." she said softly, hoping to soften the blow.

A sharp shriek escaped Laurel. "Oh God! Dad."

"Isn't he in Central City?" asked Roy.

"No, he came back this evening."

She dove for her phone and started calling her father.

Felicity hoped that he was alright. Even though he held a grudge against them, he was a better man than all of them. He didn't deserve to die.

She turned back to the others.

"We have another problem." she said.

"Another?" asked Diggle.

"Yes, there has been an attack in Iron Heights. It's still going on. You guys need to get there…"

Diggle nodded and looked at Roy. "Suit up."

Felicity turned to Lyla, "The hacking has to be back - burned. We are low on cops right now. Contact Waller. This situation has to be contained."

Lyla nodded.

Just then panic stricken Laurel almost bulldozed her. "He isn't answering. I need to find him. I am going out there."

She almost ran out the room but Diggle caught up to her.

"Laurel, wait - "

"Don't you dare stop me John! "

"Laurel - "

"Out of my way John before I make you."

"We need you on the field with us."

"But…my father..he is out there and I don't know if he is…."

"Laurel!" called Lyla. She pushed Diggle out of the way and placed her hands on Laurel's shoulders.

"Listen to me! Starling needs you. We are short on people here…They need you out there…I promise you. I will find your father. He is fine…I have personnels to spare. We will find him Laurel…Go with them…"

This was a conundrum for Laurel. The city needed her and she needed to find her father. She was at a cross gate. And it made her angry that she had to choose between one and the other.

"Fine! I will go with the guys…But promise me you will find him and when you do give me a call. Ok?"

Lyla nodded. "You have my word…"

"Ok, then." Laurel turned to the guys. "Let's get this over with."

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AN - Thank you for the reviews, follows and the favorites.

To make things clear, I would like to say that explosions took place in all the precincts in the similar way. And sorry it took me so long to update. The next one will be a lot sooner.

Thank you and please leave a review….


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER - 20

Laurel couldn't relax. She was jittery tonight. Her fingers were twirling the baton and her mind was somewhere else. Her dad was out there somewhere. Maybe lying dead. She couldn't stop thinking about him. And this would impede here from performing.

The van in which they were in turned a corner and tore down the road. It was almost eleven, and traffic was light. Diggle was driving. His eyes were narrowed and fixed on the road ahead as if he was expecting someone to jump in front of the van. He was dressed in his usual dark leather jacket, combat pants and boots, and his gloved hands had a tight grip on the wheel.

It seemed that she wasn't the only one having a case of the jitters tonight. It was spreading around like the plague. But it didn't seem to have affected Roy, who was whistling away to a tune in the back of the van. He seemed undeterred. Oliver had trained him well.

 _Oliver…._

They were going to miss him on the field tonight. He was their point man; always calling the shots. All attacks were coordinated through and around him. He always knew what he was doing. Experience played a huge factor in the field. And he had it in bulk. But Diggle was in the military so he had seen combat. So clearly they would benefit from Diggle's proficiency.

Diggle turned another corner without slamming on the brakes; the tires screeched disapprovingly.

"Woh Dig! Slow down, man. You don't wanna get killed before we even reach the fight now, do you?" quipped Roy from the back. She, on the other hand, held on for dear life.

"What's that up ahead?" Diggle asked sotto-voce, his eyes narrowing.

Laurel squinted as she looked ahead. About 200 meters in front of them was a crowd of people. And they seemed to be in some kind of a scuffle.

"Oh shit! We need to break that up…" said Diggle. "Get ready…"

As they got closer the hum of their engine was drowned by the angry buzz of the crowd. It looked worse as they got closer. A full out brawl had broken out.

"I am gonna stop the car here…We should clear the scene as soon as possible…" said Diggle.

"So what do you think? Ninja moves or love taps?" asked Roy.

"You know the drill. Bruise, don't kill." ,intoned Laurel.

Just then an explosion went off somewhere in front of them; heat and light emanated from it. The ground shook beneath them. Diggle swerved onto the curb and came to a screeching halt.

"Shit! Shit! Move out. Move out…."

Laurel rushed out of the van, her ears still ringing. She blinked repeatedly trying to stop the dancing spots.

Loud bangs went off. One, two, three, followed by the inhuman shrieks.

Laurel's vision cleared. She looked at the crowd. Everyone was trying to scamper away.

Then, came the automatics. She could make out the muzzle flash as a continuous burst of bullets dropped bodies like flies.

The screaming crowd was coming towards them trying, in vain, to escape the hail of bullets, but failing miserably.

She turned to Roy, "Find a vantage point and take out the guns. We will sweep the floor."

Roy nodded and sprinted into the adjoining alley.

"So how should we do this?" she asked.

"We will flank them. You take the left. I will take the right. We can use the crowd as cover."

"But we will be running in blind. How many guys do you reckon?" she asked.

"I don't know. Four or five, maybe. Roy can confirm for us. Roy? Do you copy? "

Their comms crackled into life.

 _"Yeah, loud and clear. There are four guys. Two with automatics and the other two have rods. We can take them easy. And get ready. The crowd is fifty meters away from you. As soon as they reach you, make a run at the thugs. I will disarm the two from here. We can blindside them this way. Copy?"_

"We got it Roy. Just say when."

Diggle sprinted across the street and took up position behind a car on the other side of the road.

Laurel could hear the approaching crowd from behind the van. Their shrieks and screams pierced through the night. The ground trembled beneath her feet. It seemed like a team of horses was galloping down the street.

 _"Twenty feet guys. Get ready!"_

She peeked from behind the van. People were scampering towards them with their arms flailing. There was dread written all over their face. The men ran as fast as they could. But the women couldn't. And seeing them made her realize that all the deliberations and the spiel about feminism and woman empowerment didn't amount to anything in this situation. When you are staring down the barrel of a gun, all kinds of social issues usually went down the drain.

Gunshots shook her out of her musing. A couple of people collapsed on the ground and the screaming spiked again. She could clearly see the muzzle flashes now. And she could wait no longer.

She ducked out from behind the van and ran towards the crowd. Diggle and Roy must have noticed her because the next moment they were screaming in her ear piece.

 _"Shit Laurel! What are you doing?"_

 _"Not yet, Laurel! Stop!"_

But she wasn't paying attention. She was pissed and wanted to hit something.

She sprinted as fast as she could, swerving and maneuvering between the crowd. There was no other way. She had to attack the thugs head on.

The thugs noticed her only when she was about two feet away from them. She, however, didn't have time to come up with any preconceived plan. The only thing she saw was a gun toting thug.

She had to play it by the ear.

In that instance, time slowed down to a crawl. The thug pointed the gun at her. She couldn't slow down. Her momentum carried her square towards the barrel of the gun. She could almost make out the crooked finger squeezing the trigger.

There was only one thing to do. She hit the ground, rolled and swept his feet from under him. The thug fell on his butt with a surprised yelp. She went in with the flow, completed the move and rolled up in one fluidic motion. She kicked the rifle out his hands. He tried to get up but she stomped down hard on his knee, grabbed his outstretched arm and twisted it. It snapped like a twig. The man shrieked in pain and stayed down.

 _One down_

Before she could turn around, something or someone, akin to a freight train slammed into her back and she hit the concrete face down. Luckily, her instincts took over and she flipped to her right, just in time to see a rod land on the spot where her head had been a second ago. The thug brought the rod over his head and was about to swing at her again when it slipped from his hands, and he sank to the ground with a yelp. There, impaled on his back, was an arrow.

She heaved a sigh of relief.

 _That was close._

 _"_ Thanks, Roy.", she breathed.

 _"No problem but I think Dig could use your help."_

She spun around. She had totally forgotten about Diggle. He was engaging two thugs at once and was doing a better job at it than her. But she reckoned that since she was there he didn't have to.

She sprinted towards him and shouted, "John!"

Diggle, in between the scuffle, caught a glimpse of her and kicked one of the thugs hard towards her, whom she tackled hard from behind. The thug couldn't even get his arms up to defend himself. She punched him twice in his gut, grabbed his head by the hair, pulled it down and slammed her knee into his nose. The thug crumpled on the ground and remained motionlessly.

She put her hands on her knees and tried to steady her breath. She turned around to make sure that Diggle was doing alright. And he seemed to be because he was making his way towards her.

He stopped in front of her and pulled off his ski mask. His face was glistening with sweat. He spit on the ground and glared at her.

"What the hell, Laurel! You were supposed to wait for the green light. You could have been killed!"

"And the people would have been killed if I hadn't acted. I had to improvise." she spat back.

Diggle sighed in exasperation, "You could have at least warned me."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

Just then Roy came bounding towards them.

 _"_ Guys! Felicity is on the line."

"Ok..patch her through Roy." said Diggle, nodding at him.

The line clicked and Felicity's perky voice filled everyone's ears.

 _"Guy! You Ok? Why did you suddenly stop in the middle of Quezon Street?"_

"We ran into a scuffle. But that has been resolved now.", said Diggle.

 _"Oh! I see. How's the situation out there, John?"_

"Shitty, to say the least. The ground is crawling with these low - lifers. Gangbangers, mostly but that's not all. One of them was equipped with a military grade M16 and couple of grenades."

 _"What?"_

Diggle moved and lifted up the rifle. "Yes, this weapon is obviously registered but the number have been filed off."

 _"So used military weapons. Who could have access to them?"_

"Anyone. Arms dealer, some old military fart. But it seems to be in fine condition. This can't be more than a year old."

 _"Ok…well. I will check the dock shipments. If anything sticks out, I will look into it. And the reason I called?"_

"Yeah?"

 _"Laurel! You there?"_

"Yeah! I am here."

 _"Lyla called me. Your dad is alive. But he is in a bad shape. He has a concussion, broken ribs, a lot of cuts and bruises. The doctor says he is out of the woods. According to Lyla, he was one of the few who survived. The precinct is gone. I am sorry."_

Laurel sucked in a sharp breathe. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over her. But that too was shadowed by the tragedy which had befallen the city.

"That's good, I will check on him later. Right now we need to get to Iron Heights."

 _"Yeah, about that, guys, there is no use going there anymore."_

"Why not?"

 _"It's over. Whatever was going down is over. Reports suggest that there has been a mass breakout and they are taking over the city. It's a mess out there."_

"What about the cops?"

 _"Cops! There are no more cops, apart from a couple of hundred at most. All the precincts were blown up, remember. This is a well-planned attack. They have strategically taken out all the pillars of the city. The roof is about to come crashing down."_

" Well, we are still standing. So that has to count for something."

 _"Well, in that case the roof is teetering on your shoulders. It's not long before you buckle under the pressure. You have to do something…"_

Diggle looked at her and asked, "What do you think?"

The situation was serious. Whoever had brought the attack to them had done so with pin point precision and tactical awareness. This was a product of a lengthy operation. And they had chosen the most opportune time to attack - right when they had a man down. According to Felicity, the whole city was being run over by criminals and they had successfully cut off their legs.

"Felicity, are you connected to the Queen satellite?"

 _"Yeah!"_

"Do you have a live feed of the thugs?"

 _"Yeah! The majority of them are in the west of the city, wreaking havoc. They aren't far from downtown. And you know how crowded downtown is at this time. This is going to be a disaster. All the local news channels are urging us to get indoor as soon as possible."_

"Ok, Ok, so that's where we are headed. We need to stave off this potential disaster at least. "

 _"Good, but some smaller factions have broken off and they are spreading throughout the city. The cops that were out on patrol might be able to handle them for the time being."_

"Felicity…call Ted Grant. He needs to dust off his brass knuckles and meet us downtown. His retirement days are over. This is his city too.."

 _"Ok, you got it.."_

"Good…"

Saying that she hung up, " They are most probably at the West Avenue."

Diggle nodded. "Figures they would wanna hit there. It is the poshest area in the city after downtown. Makes scene. Then downtown, I presume?"

"Yes, they are heading for downtown. We can plug them in the underpass connecting West Avenue and Downtown."

"But the traffic is crazy down there.",pipped in Roy.

"I know. But we have to figure something out.", she said.

Diggle nodded. "Alright, let's go."

So they turned and made their way towards the van, leaving the bodies of the thugs lying in the middle of the street.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What?"

The word came out harsher than he had meant it to be. She flinched and looked up at him with terror filled eyes. And this made him guilty.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to….but please, tell me it isn't true. Tell me what I just heard isn't true?" implored Oliver, all his pain forgotten.

She didn't say anything. A deafening silence had descended upon the room threatening to bring forth all that remained unspoken. Her face was scrunched up and her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. All those years of contempt and hatred boiled down to one single moment. One single action which changed their lives. One single action, which created a rift between them.

"I am sorry Oliver. But it is true. You have a son."

And hearing that he collapsed on the bed. His mind was racing at a million mile per second. Questions, doubts, and queries popped up in his mind and ravaged through his brain with such intensity that it was painful. A myriad of emotions unfurled and swirled inside him, clenching and squeezing his heart painfully. He couldn't breathe. The feeling was overwhelming and surreal.

 _I have a son!_

It was a feeling he had never felt before. It was almost alien. But it was wonderful.

"Is….is he here?"

"He's here. He is having his dinner."

"Oh! And does he know about me? I mean…about who I am to him?" he asked expectantly.

She sighed, "You have to understand this Oliver; he is a very delicate boy. He grew up without a father and seeing his friends grow up with one….Well, it was hard for him. He has developed a complex. He believes that he doesn't have a father because of something he has done and he jumped with joy when I told him about you. But he has no idea about the basic concept of a father. He has a lot of expectation…a lot for a child of his age. So I don't know if you are ready to shoulder that kind of expectations. Because Oliver, I don't know how many person you have hurt or disappointed in your lifetime, but he is the one person you can't hurt. He is your son and you have to be a father to him."

He remained silent and listened intently. She was hitting home with every word. He had learned a long time ago that he was capable of hurting people - both physically and emotionally. As the years went by the list accrued more and more names. It came with the job - the lies, the hatred, the darkness.

But he couldn't do that anymore. In this degrading, dark and rotten life of his, he could see the light at last. All his life he had been waddling through all the depravity, debauchery and the corruption; taking a dip in it whenever he had to do the necessary so that others could sleep at night. But now, all of a sudden, his son in all his glory had descended from the heavens like an angel and gently wrapped him up in his wings.

He could see the end. He could see the light.

He felt moisture build up in his eyes.

"I understand; I understand everything. He will be my life now." ,said Oliver solemnly.

She nodded, "That's good. I had to know your priorities. He needs you in his life."

Oliver surveyed the woman in front of him. Motherhood had set into her. She wasn't that same peppy, party girl anymore. But she too was scarred. It was evident on her face. He couldn't remember creases on her forehead before. This made him wonder if life would have spared them all the pain if they would have raised their child together. Maybe his life would have been different.

"Why now Sarah? Why after all these years? What made you change your mind?" asked Oliver.

"You did, Oliver."

Oliver frowned. "Me?"

She nodded. "Today morning, in the coffee shop, was the first time I spoke to you in about eight years. And I realized that you had changed. Back then, you were an asshole."

"Ouch!"

"You were!"

He chuckled, "Fair enough."

"But today I realized that you were not the same asshole that I had painted as the villain of my story. And what was more disturbing was the fact that I had changed too, not for the better but maybe for the worse. I kept your son away from you. Initially, it was my rationalization that I was keeping him away because of your destructive lifestyle. Because jumping the velvet ropes at nightclubs every night is hardly conducive to creating a child friendly environment…..you were an asshole to me, Oliver, and I was projecting everything on Conner. He needs his father….and from what I can see, you need a son."

He remained solemn. He marveled at the strength and the depth of the woman in front of him. From what he could see, his son had an amazing mother and that spoke volumes about him.

"Thank you, Sarah. And you're right. I need a son, I need a light."

Silence again befell them. A comfortable silence, though. A beam of light crept in, infusing the room with the brightness and hopeful spirit that the day brought. He could see the moots of dust swirling in the beam, sparkling like diamonds. And he could see the sun in them.

He felt the corners of his lips curve up into a strained smile. He could feel the world straighten again.

"And Oliver?"

"Hmm…."

"You shouldn't blame your mother. I see that now. She was only protecting her son as I was mine. She was an amazing woman. I am really sorry about her death."

"Thank you. She was a good mother." ,he said.

"Ok..enough of the weepy stuff. Would you like to meet Connor?"

"Now?"

"Yeah! Now."

"Ok….yeah.."

She pushed up from her seat and walked towards the door.

"Wait!"

She swiveled around and frowned at him.

"What do I tell him about these?" he asked, pointing at his injuries.

She thought for a few minutes and smiled, "I look forward to seeing you dig yourself out of that one."

And she moved out of the room.

Oliver waited on his bed anxiously, all the doubts and uncertainties crept up on him. He could feel himself perspiring and it was not because of his injuries.

There was a pitter-patter of excited feet outside his door, then silence.

And then he saw a little boy come in and he saw the sun.

His felt his heart clenched as the sight of the little boy drove away all the pain, doubt, despondency, and hopelessness. Everything in the room faded away, everything fell short to his son's aura and resplendence.

His life had been entrenched in a darkness; a darkness which clung to him like the smell of nicotine to a smoker's breath. All his life he had been searching for the light. He wanted to know the purpose of his life. What did everything amount to in the end? And he hadn't found it yet, because it was here all along, standing in front of him.

 _My son!_

An overwhelming sense of pride and joy crashed into him, emanating waves of pleasure which raked through his body. In that moment, he realized that he was a parent and that someone else's life was more precious and important than his, and he would move heaven and hell alike to ensure his safety.

Conner was tall for his age. He was lanky and a carbon copy of him. The same floppy, dirty blonde hair falling over his forehead, the same emerald eyes which twinkled with pleasure and the same angular chin. His chin.

 _He is going to break a lot of hearts when he grows up, just like his old man._

Conner came towards him and stood near the edge of his bed. A certain shyness bloomed on his face. Oliver tried to rid him of this nervousness by giving him a wide smile.

And he beamed back at him amidst the nervousness.

"Hey there!", Oliver greeted him.

"Hi.", Conner replied shyly.

And then he looked up at him and said, "You are my dad."

It wasn't a question. It was just acceptance on Conner's part and his. It was like all the pieces had fallen into place. Till now his world had been empty, but now he had a reason, a meaning, a purpose. Conner was his world.

"Do you like soccer?"

Oliver chuckled, "Yes, I played when I was of your age."

Conner perked up and his eyes lit up as if it was Christmas morning."You did! Which position?"

He smiled at the look of wonder on his son's face. "Mid-field."

"Me too!" squealed Conner, with excitement.

"Woh! Woh! Calm down, buddy. You are gonna bring the roof down.", he laughed at the excitement.

"You wanna sit beside me?", he asked.

"Yeah!", and he climbed up on the bed and settled himself comfortably beside Oliver.

Oliver groaned as Conner inadvertently grazed against his injury.

Conner stopped and looked at him, "You are hurt."

"Yes."

"What happened?", his eyes were swirling with concern.

Oliver sighed. He was waiting for this. From what he could discern, Conner was a clever and sensitive boy. He had a twinkle in his eyes shone brighter. He could tell him the truth but he didn't want his son to see him for what he was. Not yet. Maybe if Sarah approved.

"It was an accident."

"Oh…You are going to be all right?"

Oliver put his arm around him and pulled him closer. He pressed his lips to his floppy hair. "I am going to be all right now."

"You are not going away, are you?"

"What? No, Conner, I am never going to leave you. You hear me. Never again.", saying that he pulled him into a hug.

Oliver felt as though an arrow had pierced his heart. He deserved all the hurt in the world for having put his son through this. Circumstances might have conspired against him but he knew that what Conner went through was his fault. And God be damned if he was ever going to abandon him again.

"Will you come to my next soccer game?" came Conner's muffled voice.

Oliver pulled back from the hug and looked at his son, "When is it?"

"The day after tomorrow."

"I think I'll be able to walk by then. Don't worry, buddy. I wouldn't miss it for the world.", promised Oliver.

"Awesome! That will show Andrew and his dad."

"Andrew?"

"He is my classmate. His dad is always showing off during soccer practice. Juggling with the ball and barking orders at us."

"Is his dad the coach?"

"No, but he always stands on the sidelines and points out our mistakes."

"So, you want me to show a few tricks of my own?"

"Yes, and also I want you to meet my friends."

Oliver smiled at him. "Ok, deal. It's time for me to dust off my boots and show little old Andrew's dad who the top dog is."

Conner giggled unabashedly and hugged him again.

And Oliver couldn't wipe the joy off his face. He had never envisioned his life beyond the Arrow. He had never thought of a family of his own. The Arrow and he were two sides of the same coin; one couldn't survive without the other. Both the persona had bled into one another. But now, sitting here with Conner, he could feel the winds of change blowing. Twilight was upon him and he could feel the warm hug plant a seed within him. This seed would take root and germinate. It would be watered and nourished with all of Conner's warmth and love. The flowers of his love would crack open his ribcage and emerge, and they would mark the birth of a new man. A changed man.

That was the redemption of this broken man.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author's note - Thank you for the reviews, follows and the favorites.

I tried something new with the scenes with Oliver and his son. I wanted it to be emotional. So please tell me in the reviews if the scenes were up to mark emotionally. This moment was crucial for Oliver and it marked a kind of transformation in him. It was a life altering situation for him.

And back home the team have their hands full with the brewing trouble. I brought on Wild cat and I am juggling with the idea of bring Ray Palmer in. So, let's see.

And last but not the least, I implore you to leave a review in the section below.


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER - 21

Lyla walked down the silent and sterile corridor. The crump of her boots echoed around her. Brightly lit fluorescent lights shone down on the sparkling white marble floor. She was on the top floor of the ARGUS headquarter, and everything about the place screamed 'state-of-the-art'. All around her there was glass and steel and chrome. Nothing was redundant; everything was functional.

As soon as she had stepped out of the elevator, her nose had been assaulted by a sweet, sickly smell which hung in the air. It made her feel nauseated. And it was the same every time she stepped in here.

The walls were painted a pristine white, which compounded the glare of the fluorescent lights. Surprisingly enough, the walls had not discoloured. She had worked here for the past six years and in that time period she had come up here a grand total of nine times. She could hardly notice any change from when she had stepped foot here the first time.

The top floor of the building housed Amanda Waller's office and the 'War room'. The 'War room' was a state-of-the-art operations room filled with intercoms, telephones, modems and huge monitors on the walls, and agents feverishly tapping away on their keyboards. All high profile operations were coordinated and controlled from their. She too had been a part of such operations once or twice.

Outside Starling was drowning in a sea of monsters but this place remained untouched. It was like the Ark of Noah - a haven during the apocalypse. All the chaos and malevolence could not seep in here.

She was walking down the corridor which connected the elevator to the 'War room'. Just in front of her was the 'war room'. A twelve feet switchable electric glass door separated the corridor and the war room. It was usually opaque when the room was in use. And it was opaque now.

She pushed the door open and stepped in. A cool draft hit her and a racket of noise assaulted her ears. There were twenty people in the room and they were functioning on all four cylinders, like the robots on a manufacturing line. Few of them were looking at a video footage on the 30 inch screen on the wall. Five of them were seated in their computers, tapping away with a grim look on their face. Phones were ringing off the hook. A couple of them were moving around with stacks of files in their hands. All of them were talking at the same time; pointing out things to one another, connecting calls and scrubbing through live footages and coming up with well perceived and analysed plan.

And at the centre of everything, pulling the strings was the captain of this disarrayed ship - Amanda Waller. She was standing, calm and composed, like a statue, in the corner of the room. Her eyes were skittering across the room taking everything in. She had once told her that silence helped her process. She used to spend hours in her office brainstorming a particular situation before coming up with an answer by the end of the day. She was efficient that way.

She was dressed in a dark pant-suit, with a pitch coloured shirt peeking from underneath the suit. Her jaw was clenched and her forehead was scrunched up with a perpetual a frown. Her dark hair was pulled up in a tight bun. She always wore her hair that way. She was the epitome of authority and power, like a catholic mother with a cane, who would whip you if you looked at her wrong.

Amanda looked at her as she strode towards her.

The frown on her face morphed into confusion, "Agent Michaels? What are you doing here?", she asked.

"The City is going berserk. Armed thugs are running around killing everyone. Someone bombed the Mayor's office and the precincts."

Waller raised an eyebrow. "I am well aware of that. Look around. What do you think I am doing here?"

Lyla turned her attention towards the screens. Sure enough, there were footages of the city. CCTV footages, traffic cams and any other cameras which were accessible, all were lined up in small squares on the screen.

"You are only monitoring. Where are the strike teams? We have to contain this."

"We can't intervene. The State Police and the National Guards have been alerted."

"What do you mean _we can't intervene_?" she asked indignantly.

Waller sighed in exasperation, "Do I have to make you go through the rule book again? ARGUS doesn't have domestic mandate. We can't lend a hand until and unless we liaise with a local law enforcement agency, and seeing as there is none left in this city, I can't really do anything."

"That's just bullshit technicality. It has never stopped you before."

Waller ignored her.

"Amanda, let me have twelve guys. I will take point myself from the control room. We can take them on. We can liaise with the vigilantes."

"Like I said, Agent Michaels, I am not gonna compromise protocols. Calls have been placed through the proper channels. The White House has been notified. This is a coordinated terrorist attack and we do not have any precedent for it so the President himself will call me within the hour and give me a line of direction. Till then, we have to hold on."

Lyla growled in frustration. She felt like a child whose parents wouldn't give her a toy she saw on a shelf. Waller was the most obstinate person she had met. No one could influence her decision. She was dogged that way.

"Amanda, the National Guards are about 200 miles away. And these thugs are armed with military grade weapons. They are gonna wreck havoc to the city."

Waller ignored her because just then an agent beckoned her.

"Ma'am! The West Avenue is under attack."

Waller's nostrils flared. "Bring it up on the centre screen."

The agents punched a few button on the keyboard and a video feed popped up on the centre screen.

It was a traffic cam footage. It was bleary and coarse grained. The time was running at the bottom left corner of the frame in white grainy figures and the top right corner read 'CAM 223'. There was no audio. On the screen, scores of people were thumping across the street as if they were rallying in protestation. They were all dressed in prison outfits and were armed. Since it was a fixed axis camera she couldn't make out their number, but she guesstimated it to be around thirty or forty, which was not good.

"Do we have any other cameras in the area?" she asked the agent.

"I am afraid not, Agent Michaels. The only other camera is at the mouth of the underpass connecting the West Avenue and Downtown."

She huffed in frustration, "Isn't West Avenue one of the most upscale parts of the city, apart from Central Avenue and Downtown? How come there is only one traffic cam in the entire region?"

"Ma'am, West Avenue is a residential area. There are a lot of cameras but we need to access them physically."

"What about ATM cams? We can access them from here."

"There are no ATMs in this three blocks radius, ma'am. This is all we have."

She turned her attention back to the footage. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a car zoomed into the frame, swerved, mounted the curb and crashed into a wall. The driver, a young kid in a shirt, leapt out of the driver seat and was about to run in the opposite direction but mists of blood puffed out of his chest and he dropped to the ground. All the convicts milled around the car and started shooting at the car and the dead body. The car lit up like a Christmas tree. The windshield shattered and flew everywhere. Then one of the convicts ran forward and tossed something inside the car and a couple out second later the car blew up.

It was a grenade. Fire swallowed up the car and raged upwards, hungry for more.

Lyla glanced at Waller. Her face, as usual, was stoic and emotionless. Neither did it reflect the graveness of the situation nor did it express any interest to tackle it. It seemed like she was watching a particular distasteful video.

Waller's obsidian eyes flickered towards the agent, "What is the situation with the rest of the city?"

The agent quickly tapped on his keyboard and smoothly pulled up the map of Starling.

"Bring it on the main screen."

The map slid into the main screen.

"Ma'am, this attack was quite intricately planned. They have a very specific sets of goals and they are not resorting to stupidity to attain them. Their plans are well coordinated, so there is little room for error on their part. It was quite clever actually, how they managed to take out the mayor's office and the police precincts, leaving absolutely no man power to protect the city. Then they broke the convicts out, which was another ace up their sleeve. Now they have an army at their command."

Everyone remained silent and the agent continued, "Iron Heights is twenty minutes outside the city limits. So after entering the city, the bulk of them headed straight towards West Avenue, their immediate target being Downtown. I mean, Downtown in the heart of the city. It is always crowded. Palmer Tech, Amertek, Mercury Labs; Downtown is loaded with money. So they are going to hit Starling where it hurts - the wallet. They can cause a lot of destruction in Downtown, not only physically but economically as well."

"So you think they are going to stop there? You think Downtown is their end game?" asked Lyla.

"It would seem so. I mean, at least, that is what I would do. But there is something else, which is quite disconcerting."

"What?"

"The bulk is heading for the downtown but smaller factions are splintering off of them. These smaller factions are moving throughout the city and causing havoc. It will be very difficult to contain this threat, what with the cops out of commission and all."

Lyla turned her gaze around to Waller, who appeared to be in deep thought. A small frown sat on her face.

"Amanda, we have to contain this."

She didn't reply. She seemed to have frozen up. Her gaze was fixed on the screen but her face, as usual, didn't betray any thoughts. One thing she had learnt about Waller over the years was that she was unpredictable. She had a way of mixing things up. And she had one of the best tactical minds in the business. It seemed likely that right now her mind was running at a thousand miles per second trying to concoct a countermeasure.

Then the iciness broke, "All right, Agent Michaels. 12 men. A team of four. Downstairs control room in 20 minutes. Prep time of 15. Our priority is to contain as much damage as possible. Liaise with those vigilantes if you have to."

"Yes, ma'am."

And without further ado, she scurried out of the room.

Amanda Waller, just like she thought - unpredictable.

She came to a halt. In front of her was the long corridor with the elevator at the end which would take her downstairs, and to her right was another corridor which led to Waller's office.

She had already been planning to come here to dig through the archives to find intel on Oliver. That had been plan A back then. But circumstances had prompted plan A to take the back seat. And now a window of opportunity had popped open.

A twenty minutes window.

It was the perfect opportunity for her to snoop around. A vague plan took shape in her mind.

Five minutes later, after further debating, she stood in front of Waller's office, staring at the ornate lettering on he door, which read - AMANDA WALLER - and just below that - DIRECTOR, A.R.G.U.S. If that wasn't intimidating enough, she didn't know what was. The glaring font alone could send someone running back into the rabbit hole.

She glanced towards the right. She could make out the faint light seeing out into the corridor from the control room. Waller was in there and she had a problem the size of USA on her shoulders. So, she would be pre-occupied with that to even pay attention to her little adventure. She could feel her heartbeat raise and pulse quicken. She knew a thing or two about espionage. She had successfully carried out missions during her field days. But this had her at the edge. She didn't know what the consequences would be and she didn't have time to consider it.

She turned her attention to the door. It was about nine feet high and four feet wide. It was a darker shade of brown with a mica finish. It looked flat and elegant and heavy. If someone were to slam it against her face then it would surely break her nose. It was strong and secure; something you would expect blocking the entrance to the boss's office. The ornate knob and the lock was at her waist height.

The lock wasn't sophisticated. It didn't have a keypad or any of the biometric sensors which was installed on the elevator. So what ARGUS was trying to convey was that if you are already up on this floor then you can be trusted. Only a handful of people were allowed up here.

The lock opened with a simple key. Scrutinising the lock further she surmised that it was a laser cut key, with a thick shank and smooth grooves. It also maybe had a transponder on it, like that of a car key, which meant that there were maybe two keys that could open this. So, no amount of poking and prodding with a bobby pin was going to open it. It was virtually uncrackable without the key.

So she did the next obvious thing. She pulled out her standard issue Sig Sauer P220 from her holster and a Osprey suppressor, which she screwed into the barrel of the gun. She figured that two taps into the lock would break it and open the door. But what she was certain of was that the lock was rigged with alarms. In case of a break-in, Waller's phone would be bombarded with alerts but she hoped that she would be too preoccupied to notice them, at least for a while.

There was no end game to this. No exit strategy. She had not come prepared. Opportunity presented itself so she had to play it by the ear. She glanced at her watch. She had about fifteen minutes to get down to the control room. Once she was inside she would have about five minutes before Waller or someone else came barging in. So she had to do it quickly and efficiently. Just like one of her missions.

She aimed her .45 at the lock and tapped twice. The gun coughed and spit out the bullets which formed a nice grouping on the lock. One a millimetre above the other. She twisted the knob and with a satisfying click the door swung open.

She didn't have time to survey the room but from what she saw she surmised that the room captured Waller's personality perfectly. Dark, cold and obsessively clean. It was empty except for a table with a rolling chair which was directly opposite to her, a steel cabinet which stood silently beside the table, a couch and a lamp which was dimly lit. The walls were white and looked as though they were painted a few days ago. There was a window behind the table with the blinders pulled.

She looked around for any cameras; there were none, at least not to the naked eye. She glanced at her watch. Thirty seconds gone. She moved towards the table. The table, like the room, was obsessively clean too. On it was a laptop, a penholder, couple of files, a letter opener which looked threateningly like a combat knife, and a tangled up laptop charger.

She lifted the lid of the laptop and screen blinked into life. It showed an ugly blue background with a rectangular box in the middle with the word PASSWORD written on top of it. She pulled out the stick drive that Felicity had given her and plugged it in. The laptop purred and whirred, a black window popped up on the screen. Then some gibberish texts started appearing on the screen, which she presumed would make more sense to Felicity than to her.

She glanced at her watch. One minute gone. Approximately four minutes left. She glanced at the door; any moment someone would come in and most probably arrest her, and she wasn't even sure if the drive was doing it's job.

So, she pulled out her phone and called Felicity, who answered almost immediately.

 _"Lyla…OK…this is….this is not a great time…"_

She frowned, "What's the matter? Why are you panting?"

 _"The cave has been infiltrated by those lunatics…They are crawling all over the Glades…I barely made it out myself…"_

"What? Are you okay?"

 _"Yeah, I am fine now. I am in the van driving out of here…..They burnt the whole club down, Lyla…Wanton destruction everywhere. They are armed with guns and grenades….They are tossing Molotov cocktails into buildings…It's crazy out here…"_

She listened to her patiently in spite of her own troubles. It looked like Star City wouldn't give anyone a break tonight. They were already stretching thin.

Suddenly, she heard a screeching noise on the line and Felicity screaming, _"Out of the way, you dumbass mother-"_

She pulled the phone away from her ear to spare them and her feminine sensibility her shrill and colourful mouth.

 _"These assholes! I swear Lyla, the next person I see in front of the van with a van, I am gonna ran him over. I don't give a shit right now!"_

"Felicity, I myself am in a bit of a fix here…"

 _"Yeah, sorry…what is it? And where are you?"_

"I am in Waller's office. I plugged your stick drive into her laptop. It seems to be downloading the contents."

 _"Woh! You broke into frosty's den! And might I ask where she is?"_

Lyla gritted her teeth, "Felicity, I don't have time. I bet my life that Waller knows I am here…I need your help.."

 _"Ok, Ok, sorry. This thing has me on the edge. Okay, hit me."_

"I have your stick drive plugged into the computer. I think she might be on her way to see who broke into her office, so I can't get the intel to you physically…"

 _"So, you want me to hack in?"_

"Yes, the malware is already in. You have to get the intel now…"

 _"Ok…Ok…hang on, let me park."_

She heard the screech of the brakes and engine shutting down.

 _"Lyla, tell me you're going to be alright"_

"Don't worry about me Felicity. Amanda won't harm me. But on a second thought whatever intel you get, send it to a media outlet if I don't call within the hour."

 _"Ok, ok, got it…Now, I have the IP address and I am in the system. So, I do this and that. Yes! It's downloading. Check it out."_

Indeed, on the bottom of the screen a window popped up which read 'DOWNLOADING' and the percentage running beside it.

"How long is it gonna take?'

 _"Not long. I have tailored my search to encompass those DNA markers, and subject 049 and 050. So any information or files related to that will fall right into my basket."_

"Okay, okay," she breathed into the receiver.

The computer already read '30% completed'.

She pulled out the clip of her gun. Eight rounds left plus another spare clip. Eighteen rounds in total. She hoped she didn't need to use it. Maybe she could bargain her way out of the situation. but she needed something special to outfox someone like Amanda Waller.

Her watch showed a minute and a half approximately. The room was quite except for the humming of the laptop and Felicity's heavy breathing in the receiver. Every object in the room cast a despondent shadow which exacerbated the gloom and doom of Waller's impending arrival. She could feel her pulse racing In anticipation and her forehead glistening with sweat.

The screen showed about 60% completion. She couldn't decide if she should have her eyes peeled on the screen or the door.

"Felicity, how much longer? It isn't showing the ETA."

 _"Almost done. It's going pretty fast actually."_

"Well, do it faster, because - "

Just then someone burst in through the door with a bang, and that someone started shooting at her. She didn't even get time to lift her head up and identify the person. All she saw was a gun pointed at her in one instant and in the next instant - loud bangs and muzzle flashes.

She dived out of the way and onto the floor but the other person continued shooting - once, twice, thrice and continued on until all she heard was the sound of an empty clip. She quickly pushed herself off the floor and pointed her gun at the person.

It was Amanda Waller, with a gun in her hand.

"Drop the gun, Amanda. Your gun is empty."

She glared at her for a few seconds and then dropped the gun.

Lyla looked around and then saw where she had unloaded all her bullets. The laptop. It was riddled with bullet holes and the screen was shattered. She cursed, worried if Felicity got everything. Her phone had rolled off somewhere when she had dived. And right now, she had bigger problems.

"Agent Michaels, imagine my surprise when I saw you breaking into my office. I thought you were one of those shape-shifting metas."

She kept her gun trained on her, "What makes you think I am not?"

"The files you hacked into confirmed it for me," she said with a smirk.

"Where is Oliver, Amanda?" she asked, point blank.

"Oliver Queen? How should I know where he is? I am not his mother."

"Don't play coy, Amanda. The Arrow disappeared yesterday evening somewhere outside of Central City. We have evidence of ARGUS's involvement."

" ARGUS's? Need I remind you that you are an ARGUS agent too. So, I recommend that you think before hurling accusations?"

Lyla huffed angrily, "Stop playing games, Amanda! The city is in ruins. The Glades is almost gone. What did you do to him?"

Waller only smirked, "I am surprised by this loyalty of yours to the obscure. You are part of this institution. Your job is to protect the interest of the nation, not protect criminal vigilantes. And what does it matter anyway. The Arrow is dead. Didn't you watch the news?"

Lyla was getting tired of this charade. She was tired of the mind games that Waller was playing; trying to twist her thoughts and emotions by deflecting her problem. Classic Waller.

So, she squeezed the trigger. The bullet whizzed passed Waller by an inch and buried itself into the wall behind her. Waller flinched and lifted her arms up to protect her face.

"No more games, Director. Tell me what I need to know or the files go public."

Waller remained silent. Fury was dancing in those glowering eyes of her. "We can add attempted murder along with breaking and entering and stealing sensitive and classified information to the list. You have a kid, Lyla. It will be a travesty if you let her grow up without a mother for this lost cause."

Lyla just gritted her teeth, "I know about subject 049 an 050. I know that they ambushed Oliver in that warehouse. He was set up. You killed him."

"It's not like he was innocent," Waller justified. "Over the years he has accrued a lot of enemies. It was only a matter of time before one of them did him in. You can't put the blame on me. And if you ask me he deserved it."

This just made Lyla's blood boil but before she could further threaten her the door banged open again and the male agent from before barged in. He hadn't realised what he had walked into but as soon as he did, his eyes went wide and he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He immediately raised his hands up looking at the gun in her hand.

"Ok…ma'am," the agent addressed. "I don't want any trouble and I didn't see anything here but Director," he turned towards Waller, "you are needed in the war room. Ma'am, like, immediately. It's a matter of life and death. Someone is trying to hack into the system."

Waller looked at her, "You know I could have you arrested and put in maximum security prison without a trial. There will be no trace of you."

"You could? But then you will see ARGUS's name plastered all over the front page of every newspaper in America. I don't think you would appreciate that much hassle. You don't want the people to panic, do you? After all you already have enough on your plate."

Waller glared at her. They were at an impasse. Even though she had a wide range of Machiavellian maneuvers in her arsenal this was a hole she couldn't climb out of.

"Well played, Agent Michaels. I almost feel proud. But let us not resort to primordial emotions right now. The city is under attack and it needs us. Are you ready to table this talk for the greater good of this city? I can have you arrested but I won't. You are an asset and I need you. Because it won't be long before Star City is wiped off the face of America."

She thought about what she said. Waller was right and she hated it. In her quest to find Oliver she had forgotten about the city. Her primary task was to protect the city. John was out there and her daughter was out there. So she nodded and filed this discussion under the 'to be continued' section of her mind.

She lowered her gun, "Only if you promise that you will not harm my family or me."

Waller nodded, "And you won't release the files?"

"You have my word."

"Then let's go and get this done."

Five minutes later, they were standing in front of the big screen in the war room. The agents were frantically punching their keyboards trying to stop whoever it was from hacking into the system. They worked efficiently, like cogs in a machine; each and everyone was needed to keep it running. Amanda had trained them well.

"I need a status report, Agents!" bellowed Waller towards the overworked crowd of agents.

"Ma'am, as of ten minutes ago someone has been trying to hack into our system and succeeding. At first I thought that it was some college kid doing it on a dare. I mean, it happens all the time but they can only get past our preliminary firewalls, you know, just graze the surface. But then this person kept knocking down our firewalls like bowling pins. The attack isn't over yet. We are doing everything to keep them out."

The room was filled with the noise of tapping keyboards and the humming of the computers and the cadence of their murmurings. The tension emanating from everyone was palpable. Everyone was on the edge. It felt as if at the drop of a pin the floodgates would open and all emotions would come bursting out.

And it did.

The screens crackled and quivered, and all of a sudden a face filled the big screen.

She heard Waller gasp at the sight of the face.

The face was that of a man. A man who belonged to the ancient part of the world. A man who could evoke fear in the heart of his enemies just by reputation. A man who was an urban legend in this part of the world, his astonishing tales only a myth. A demon straight from hell. Staring back at them was the infamous Ra's Al Ghul, in the flesh.

"Good evening. I am Ra's Al Ghul, head of the League of Shadows. I wish to speak to Amanda Waller," he intoned.

His voice was lucid and clear. She knew he was from the middle east but she couldn't detect any accent. His voice rang across the room like the sound of a whip

Waller stepped forward and asked gravely, "I am very well aware of who you are. What do you want?"

A ghost of a smile touch his razor sharp lips. He ran his hand through his mane of jet black hair. His tempestuous eyes twinkled with amusement at her answer.

"Unceremonious as always, you Americans. Well, no matter. You must be Amanda Waller?"

"I am. What do you want?" she reiterated.

The man sighed, "Have you looked outside your window, recently? Your star of a city is on fire."

"Is that why you are gracing us with this video call? To claim responsibility for this so called fire? If so, then you are wasting your time by calling us. Call BBC or Reuters or Al Jazeera. "

"I am not responsible for the fire per se. You could say that I am merely fanning the flames. This has been coming for a long time. Your city will be razed."

"Listen, I don't have time for your bullshits. You are a criminal. You are wanted by nations all over the world. So, I don't care if your are the one responsible for this attack or just providing the resources. You are an enemy of the State and someday I am going to put you in the pen myself."

Ra's chuckled and scratched his salt and pepper beard, "You Americans! Always proud and conceited and so ornery. Like you can do no wrong. The world has to play to your whims, doesn't it? You always have to have the power, don't you? Well, let's see how you feel after being neutered."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you are going to feel the power of the demon. I may be halfway across the world from you but I am capable of bringing pain to you as if I am standing next to you! Never under estimate me, child! I have seen enough arrogance to last me a ten lifetimes."

And just like that, the screen went blank and an unnatural silence enveloped the room. Everyone was holding their breath. She could here the blood rushing in her ears.

She looked at Waller. Her jaw was set tight as though she was grinding her teeth. Her eyebrows were furrowed, as always.

"Amanda, what do you think he meant by that?"

And before she could answer the screen crackled and the sprang to life again. It was a video clipping, just like the traffic cam footage, only clearer and less coarse grained.

This footage showed a table and a couple of people facing them. Both of them were sitting on the opposite end of the table and having an intense conversation. The camera was placed in such a way that it was level with their face. She recognised the two people. On the right was the President of the United State and on the left was Amanda Waller herself. The camera turned to the left once and then to the right, giving a view of the room. It wasn't the White House; she would have recognised it if it were. She had been there several times. This room had opaque glasses instead of walls, just like the door of their war room.

Then she saw a hand jump out of nowhere and swipe at something above the frame, or that was what she thought. She could also hear something akin to someone breathing through a respirator. Loud and throaty. Then suddenly she realised, it wasn't someone breathing through a respirator. It was the screwed up recorder of the camera and the acoustics. This wasn't just a. normal camera. This was a camera which was embedded on a person or his clothes. This was the kind with which sting operation were carried out or used to spy on someone.

But who would want to carry out a sting operation on the President and how would that person be granted an audience with the most guarded person on the planet.

These questions bugged her to no end so she turned her attention to the conversation the President was having with Waller on the video.

"Are you sure that this is the way to go about it?" asked the President.

"Absolutely. This is the only way."

"But, Amanda, kidnapping the Mayor's daughter, risking the little girl's life, sicking a group of criminals on the Arrow. Isn't it a bit over the top and brazen? I mean, isn't there any other way to do it?"

"Mr President, you brought ARGUS in for precisely this reason. We do the job which no one can, and we deliver. The cops tried to apprehend him but couldn't. All the crime in his city couldn't do him in. The general consensus saw him as a hero. But the time is ripe now. This mass killing in Starling has put him in a bad spot. The public is running scared of him. It's the right time to strike. The people won't miss him. Operation Broken Arrow is the way to go about it."

"Isn't there any other contingency plan in place for him?"

"No, sir, there isn't. Every contingency plan that ARGUS has for all the known metas and vigilantes are specifically designed to expose their physical limitations and their fatal flaws. The Arrow, for example has shown us in recent years he has developed a bit of a moral compass, which can be exploited. He jumps to save women and children, hence the Mayor's daughter. The chips are down for him so he will go to any length to save her and it will make it easier for us to put him in a box."

"Ok…very well. I will approve it but is there any chance of this file leaking online? Because Amanda, god forbid if that were to happen, revolutions could be fuelled by it. It will create mass panic. We are still reeling from the Snowden disaster. On top of that it will be embarrassing."

"It won't, sir. We take classified and top secret information very seriously. You know very well how tight our defenses are."

"Very well then. Broken Arrow is a go. I expect a detailed report on completion."

The President rose from his seat and shook Waller's hand. Then he turned towards the camera and said, "Gerry, get the paperworks to my office."

She tore her attention from the screen and looked at a rattled Waller.

"Gerry…Amanda is that the-"

"Secretary of State, I am afraid," she replied in a grave tone.

She didn't know which was more shocking - the President hatching illegal plans with Amanda Waller to kill a vigilante or the Secretary of State being an inside man for the League of Shadows.

Before she could process the thought, Ra's Al Ghul's face sprung on the screen again.

"Now you see what I was speaking of child. I can cripple your government just by the click of a button. All I have to do is send it to any one of those newspapers that you so kindly suggested to me. But, I won't."

"Why not?"

"Because I like to play with my food before I eat it and because I am willing to negotiate."

"Negotiate?"

"Yes, I want something from you in exchange for my silence."

"And what might that be?"

"I want you to not interfere with what is about to happen to Starling city. Call your authorities, call your President. Spread the word. If anyone affiliated with the government steps foot inside the city I will release this footage. Don't test me. Change is coming and this transformation must be allowed to happen undeterred. This is peace in our time."

And then the screen turned blank but his words reverberated around the room and in her mind. She could feel the hair stand in the nape of her neck. Nobody moved. Everybody was holding their breath. It seemed that time itself had stopped and they had been frozen for eternity.

Until Waller broke the silence, "What are you waiting for people? Carry on with your jobs! And someone call the President for me!"

Then she turned towards her, "Meet me in the control room downstairs in ten minutes. And call your vigilante team. We need their help."

Saying that a perturbed Amanda Waller walked out of the room and all she could pray for was that everything would be all right in the end.

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	22. Chapter 22

CHAPTER - 22

Felicity was scared out of her wits. Her hands shook as ragged breathes escaped her. Her heart pounded vigorously in her chest and the blood rushed through her ears. A cold sweat had broken out on her brows. She wiped it off of her forehead with the back of her hand and slammed hard on the brakes.

The van came to a screeching halt. She craned her neck and cast furtive glances out of the window. The street was empty. This made her relax. She was on the edge and didn't want anyone springing up on her. She rubbed her hands together and blew into them. A silent chill had suddenly set into the car. A violent shiver ran down her spine. She turned up the heater and held up her hands in front of it but it still wasn't enough. The chill running through her was further compounded by her recent trauma.

The cold had set in hard this time around. It was worse than last year. Winter was going to be harrowing for Starling this time around. Not only did they have to combat the cold, the snow and the frost, but also the lack of food, water and a roof over their heads. Terrorists were tearing down her city brick by brick. The next few days were going to be a litmus test of their character.

Gunfires and explosions were going off in the distance. The noise rang over the buildings and into the dark, limpid night sky, which was also lit up in a red and orange hue. It was really surreal for her. Starling had been converted into a battlefield in a matter of hours, and that too under her nose.

 _So much for being the Overwatch!_

She was all alone and terrified. The cave was compromised and most probably destroyed. Oliver was dead. Laurel, Diggle, Roy and Lyla were off somewhere. And all she that was left at her disposal was her laptop, her phone, this van and most importantly her wit, which had sharpened exponentially since she joined Oliver's band.

She pulled out her phone. There were no notifications. But before the disappointment could fully grip her a loud explosion rocked the van, and slammed her forward onto the steering wheel. The neighborhood, which mere minutes ago was basking under the blanket of tranquility, was suddenly plunged into an active war zone. The explosion disoriented her and the phone slipped out of her grasp. The harsh sound of gunfire echoed across the street and her rear window shattered.

Had it been any other civilian then they would have panicked and become paralyzed with fear. In times of exigent situations, with the body pumping adrenalin and rearing to go, the mind usually goes blank and the person freezes up, which usually proves fatal. But that didn't happen with Felicity. She wasn't a run-of-the-mill civilian. Three years running with Oliver and his crew had sharpened her instincts and reflexes. Her mind and body were in sync and responded appropriately to the danger at hand.

She ducked down into her seat and without any further thought groped around in the dark for the key and having found it, she twisted it with all her strength. The engine coughed to life. She slammed her foot on the gas and the van shot forward like a bullet out of a gun. She dared not put her head up in fear of getting her head blown off. The shooting continued. She swerved left and right, trying to avoid getting shot at. She carefully peaked out the windshield. There was turn coming up to the right. She turned the steering wheel hard and the van lurched, jerked and screeched as it took a high speed turn. But still she didn't slow down. The gas pedal was flat on the floor. The engine was groaning in protestation. Once she was a good distance away did she check her rear - view mirror.

No now was following her.

"Fuck! That was close," she cursed and heaved a sigh of relief.

She eased up on the gas pedal. Her heart was pounding at a furious pace. There was only a so many times her heart could take such stressful situations before collapsing. She was sure she would suffer at least one cardiac arrest before she reached fifty. Her job as the guardian mother of Starling city was certainly not doing wonders to her life expectancy.

But right now that wasn't her concern. She had lived now to die another day. And that was all that mattered.

She was feeling hot all of a sudden. She cracked open the window and cold wind rushed in, which made her relax. She was at the periphery of the Glades and was about to enter the city. These few blocks were the poorest of the Glades. She noticed a beat up car parked near the curb, overturned dumpster with litters spilling out, discoloured and dilapidated buildings, broken windows, overgrown shrubbery in desperate need of a trim and broken fences. Few of the buildings didn't have electricity. Maybe the tenants were evicted due to some building code violation, she thought, or maybe it was some kind of fraud committed against the poorer people. She chided herself for not having noticed it before; she drove past this area everyday. She had never gone out of her way to research about the plight of the people living here. This made her feel guilty.

 _Some guardian I am. What a shame!_

This attack or situation was making her look at things in a different way, something which she had lost in the humdrum of life. She passed these streets every day to the cave but never thought of paying attention to it. She didn't stop to smell the roses or appreciate the sky or enjoy the thrill of the cold, brisk wind hitting her face, as she was doing now. Maybe it was her close brush with her mortality that was invoking such tender sensitivities in her but the war was changing her, making her appreciate all the insignificant but beautiful things.

Beating up half the upper echelons of Starling into a pulp was not the way to save Starling. There are other, more innocuous ways to save the city, she realized. But those had to wait for tonight. Because no matter what, this fight was going to be won with fists and sticks, and it going to be fought till the end.

Nothing seemed to be going her way tonight, and it had all started two hours ago. She had been comfortably sitting in the cave, keeping tabs on the happenings around the city. Since the attack and the eventual fall of the precincts she had been posting important information on twitter, Facebook and other social media networks. She had been the eye keeping watch over this besieged city and trying to paddle the people to safety.

But everything had changed the moment the security alarms started blaring. In the three years that she had been there and that alarm had never gone off. So she had immediately pulled up the video feeds to only have her fears confirmed. A cavalcade of thugs, who were armed to the teeth, had broken into the club. They were howling and screaming in protestation. The club had been empty except for a couple of tables, stools and the bar island. They had started trashing the place. One of the thugs tossed a Molotov cocktail and suddenly the place had caught on fire. Blazing inferno zipped around licking every surface on it's way. The rising smoke had sooted up the camera lens.

In that moment she had been petrified. All she had sought to do was escape. It was evident that there was no stopping the raging fire; it would eventually swallow the whole club along with her in it if she didn't escape. So she had set the servers on auto - format mode and had picked up her laptop, her jacket and a gun and escaped. She had climbed onto the van and zoomed out of there.

It had been absolutely terrifying for her. The base was lost. Their home was lost. The information and the armoury, everything precious and precarious was lost. And that had made her absolutely furious. She had been absolutely livid that she had wanted to hit something even though she wasn't a violent person. She had almost run over a couple of thugs when she had been on the phone with Lyla.

Now she was cruising through a deserted street in south Starling aimlessly. There was no evidence of any destruction here but the streets were empty. Street lights shone down on the long and slick tarmac. It looked like everyone had abandoned the place or were holed up in some corner of their house.

They attacked the Glades but not the south side.

 _Why?_

Her computer had shown that the bulk of the cavalcade was moving towards downtown. She presumed it to be an obvious move because that's where all the money was. The police precincts were all down and the next logical place to attack was the money. But right now all she could see was a bunch of thugs ravaging through her city like a swarm of locusts ravaging through crop. She couldn't see any evident plan in their actions. She couldn't figure out their plans. What do they want? Who are they? How did they cripple a city in a matter of hours? These were the questions swimming around in her brain.

She needed answers, and for that she needed to get on her computer. She needed her eyes on the situation. She needed a strategy, a plan of attack. She also needed to decode the intel that Lyla had collected from the ARGUS database. And for that to happen she needed a place to settle where she could unwind and work on the plan. Oliver always had a safe house in the city. Even Sara had operated from that clocktower when she was here.

So she wracked her brain furiously, trying to find a viable option for setting up shop. For a moment she contemplated using her apartment but then dismissed it quickly because of the size constraint. Then she thought about the one shared by Thea and Oliver, and a guilty pang shot through her heart. Oliver was dead and Thea was blissfully ignorant about it. It had been their responsibility to break the news to her but none of them had gotten around to doing it. So, she couldn't just barge in on his sister and spring something as big as her brother's death on her, and then ask her permission to use their condo for her secret operations. It would be quite untoward and tactless.

Then Lyla came to her mind. Surely, ARGUS had dozens of safe houses hidden within the city and they could easily lend one to her. But then she remembered Lyla's predicament. She had been quite frantic on the phone and had risked her and her families life trying to get that intel. For that she would always be indebted to her. She couldn't ask anything more of her after that.

She felt like screaming. She was frustrated. She had exhausted all her possibilities. It was like trying to hold onto a bar of soap; the harder your grip the more easily it zips out of your grasp. It was quite infuriating and exasperating. This made her appreciate Oliver's leadership even more. They never had any trouble of this magnitude whenever he was around. He was always prepared and composed out on the field. His mind was hard-wired for combat.

All of a sudden she wished he were here, sitting beside her. Surely, he would have found them an alternate safe house by now or would have told them that he already had one ready. He had this amazing ability of pulling surprises out of nowhere. Thinking about him made her sad now. He could have been anyone but he became a soldier - a vanguard for the weak against the corrupt. He had once said that it was a life which gave his clarity even if it had not been a bed of roses for him. To gain clarity he had to loose himself, his comfort, his money, his parents and his home.

And all of a sudden it struck her.

 _Of course, how could I have missed that? It is perfect._

She had found the perfect place to set up shop. Even in his absence, Oliver was helping her.

So, an hour and a half later she brought the van to a stop. She was four miles outside of Starling. She had exited off the freeway at the first intersection and driven down an empty road with an ocean of trees on both sides. There were no lights in the area, everything was pitch black. Her headlights were the only source of light.

She sat in the van for a few minutes contemplating her decision to come here. She could make out the silhouette of the place; sitting and rotting under the lucid sky like an age old carcass. This place is dead - a tragic reminder of one of the oldest families of Starling. But the dead do not leave you, do they? They remain with you and shape you, at least that was what she thought. So she quickly cast aside her doubts. This place might not have the glamour and the grandiosity that it had back in the day but right now, it was the safest place in and around Starling.

She kept the headlights on and got out of the van. A fairly brisk wind assaulted her. She shivered and pulled her coat tightly around her. Her face was flushed from the cold. She could hear the leaves rustling and the constant chirping of the crickets and the hooting of the owls from the blanket of trees behind her.

She halted and looked around. In front of her, surrounded on all sides by wilderness and suffocating darkness, stood the Queen Mansion. It was the last testament of one of the oldest families of Starling - a tombstone marking the royal blood of Starling.

She walked up to the fifteen foot iron gate. Vines and shrubs wound around the blunt and rusted grille. Using the light from car headlight she unlatched the gate and pushed it open. It swung open with a loud screech which broke the dead silence. It echoed through the cold chilly night and reverberated in her ear. For a moment she feared that some psycho hiding in the trees would hear it and come running. She felt like she was in one of those jump scare movies.

The wind picked up speed and she returned back to the van. She drove passed the gates and down the asphalt driveway. It was wet and littered with leaves and twigs. The mansion was about a fifty meters away from the main gate. The compound was a little bigger than fifteen acres, and it included a huge garden which once had variety of exotic flowers, an army of trees standing guard around the compound, a basketball court, a dolphin fountain with water spurting off its snout, a tennis court most probably and a lot more of which she was unaware of. The Queens had lived a scrumptious life but now all that remained was an apparition which paled in front of the real thing.

She had heard all about the glamour and the mystique that this place held when she was little - all the parties and the charm and the lights. It was the wet dream of every capitalist, businessmen, movie stars and the muck-a-muck's of the city, who came to mingle, socialise and feast on the very best. She had heard about the exotic food and the music, and the kings and the sheikhs who came to attend them. It was like a fairy tale for her, one she had only heard about from a distance but never got to witness.

But now, seeing the unkempt gardens, the wild maniacal trees and the dispirited and ashen mansion she couldn't believe that once this place was booming with unbridled energy and passion. All that was present now was perpetual silence and darkness. It was quite tragic and depressing.

She rounded the fountain and came to a halt in front of the mansion door. She got out of the van with her laptop. She switched on the torch on her phone and pointed it at the rugged and worn wooden door. In that moment a significant thought struck her. In her haste to get here, she had forgotten to factor in the possibility that the doors might be locked.

She turned the knob and the lock clicked open. She frowned. It had almost been a year since Oliver had walked out of this place with the prospect of never returning. It was just too painful for him like it would be for anyone. But Oliver Queen was unlike anyone. He didn't lock the darkness away but embraced it like an old friend. Maybe in the past year he frequented this place more often than he let on. He was secretive that way.

She swung the door open with a loud creak. She crinkled her nose as a strong stench of must and mildew hit her nose. Oliver might have visited this place frequently but he sure as hell didn't clean it. She could feel a warm wind blow in her direction from inside. Must be all the stuffed air, she thought. Everything was dark inside. The only light shinning was from the torch of her phone.

All in all the place made the hair in the nape of her neck stand and her skin crawl. Her heart started pounding loudly. She started shivering.

"Ok, girl. This is how every innocent girl is murdered in an R - rated horror flick."

Hoping against all hope that she wasn't one of those unfortunate girls, she stepped into the foyer and swung her flashlight along the walls searching for the light switch.

She found the switch after a few seconds of groping along the wall and switched it on. The lights flickered as if it were hesitant to come on and then with a collective hum they turned on and chased the darkness away.

She did a little jig in her mind. This place belonged to Palmer Tech now; at least they paid the bills for electricity if not for a gardener.

The place was the same as before, at least structurally. The first difference she noticed was that the place didn't have that pristine glaze anymore. A layer of dust and grit had settled on the surface and sucked out the colour and brightness from the place. The chandelier overhead was smeared with dust and cobwebs. The whitewashed walls had developed a grimier and slightly off white colour. The dark mahogany panelling were filthy and encrusted with moulds. All in all she surmised that this place had seen better days. No wonder only rich people could afford to live in mansions. The upkeep was very high.

But overall this place was exactly what she was looking for - secluded and safe. No one would come looking and they would be able to operate out of here for the time being.

Now all she had to do was set up her things and call the team.

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Oliver sighed contentedly. This was the most content he had ever been in a long time. The ache from his injuries had dulled away into the background. He was lying on his back, unable to move and the only thing on his mind was his son, who was busy scribbling away on his plaster cast.

"What are you up to, kiddo?" he asked.

Conner gave him a cheeky grin, "Nothing."

Just then Caitlyn walked into the room. "Oh! Look, it's the Flash. It's a nice drawing, Conner."

Caitlyn had come in about an hour ago to check up on him and had ended up staying. She had been busy talking to Sarah in the other room.

"No! Aunt Caitlyn, why? It was supposed to be a surprise."

Caitlyn's eyes widened in mock terror. She held up her hands in apology. "Oops! Sorry, I didn't know."

Oliver couldn't help but chuckle at his son's pouting face.

Caitlyn looked at Conner and said, "I am sorry, buddy. But listen….Do you want to meet the Flash?"

He immediately perked up. "You know the Flash?"

"Yes, I do. Would you like to meet him?"

He almost lunged at her. "Yes, yes! Please! Can we go now?"

"We can go tomorrow if you want."

"You are the best, Aunt Caitlyn," he declared and gave her a hug.

"But can mom and daddy come?"

Caitlyn smirked at Oliver and said, "I am sure daddy would love to come but why don't you go and ask mom?"

"Ok, thanks, Aunt Caitlyn," he hugged her again and bounded out of the room happily.

Oliver couldn't keep the smile off his face as he watched his son run out of the room. The happiness was infectious and it had filled the entire room like the radiance of the sunlight. He could feel the warmth seep into his body and heal his withering soul. It was a balm for his jaded and weary heart.

"Oliver, here is your pain killer. It will keep the pain at bay so that you can have a good night sleep."

He popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed it down with water.

"You know what, Oliver," said Caitlyn casually, as she plopped down on the chair beside his bed. "You look awfully happy for someone who had his ass handed to him on a platter a mere twenty-four hours ago."

He looked at her and grinned widely.

She pointed at his wide grin and said, "That's what I am talking about. You have been grinning like an idiot since I got here. What gives?"

He sighed and gazed at the door through which Conner had just run out.

"I wouldn't say that I am happy per se."

"Giddy, then?"

"Content is the word," he stated.

"Content?"

"Content. I have everything I need right here. I don't want tomorrow to come. This, now, is spectacular," he said.

Caitlyn smiled at him, "Wow! That is good. Is it because of Conner?"

"It is. I have never been as content and fulfilled. I can see the end of the tunnel now."

She frowned, "What do you mean by that? Are you thinking of hanging up your leather?"

He remained silent for a moment and then said, "Over the years the thought has crossed my mind. Many time in fact. But it has always been just that - a thought. There was never any reason for it to become a reality. I was fighting the fight, keeping the city safe, contributing my two bit just like an average Joe."

"You are hardly an average Joe, Oliver."

"Maybe not but you know what I mean. I gave everything to this cause - my life, my energy, my soul. Everything! I have been blindly raging through the storm trying to attain my goal. I always thought that I was pulling the strings to my own life," he paused and took a deep breath.

"But in hindsight, I realized that I was never in control of my own life. The strings were never in my hands. The Arrow wasn't my creation. It was my father's. It was his greed that made me who I am. He is dead and I am left paying for his sins, righting his wrongs."

"But Oliver, that's life! Sometimes you get dealt a crappy hand but you have to make do with it. I never imagined that my life would turn out like this. I never thought that my career would be ruined in a single day. After the explosion I thought that was it - rock bottom . So I had packed my bags with every intention of leaving but Dr. Wells spoke to me and changed my mind. He told me that he need my help. So I stayed. And it was worth it."

"Yes, Caitlyn, but you chose to do it. You had a choice. Something which was ripped out of my hands the minute I stumbled onto that island. That was where the Arrow was born and since the island, the Arrow and Oliver Queen have been the same person. So there is no reverting back. It's ingrained in my DNA."

"So are you saying that you regret becoming the Arrow?"

"Now, yes. But if you had asked me a month back I would have said no. I have been able to help a lot of people as the Arrow. What I am trying to say is that I know who Oliver Queen is with the Arrow. He is a creation of my father. But I don't know who Oliver Queen is without the Arrow. I don't want to make the same mistakes my father made. I want to be there for my son."

Caitlyn remained silent and shifted into a more comfortable position.

"I see others and I yearn for a normal life. I feel like I am constantly driving towards my next goal. It's always one goal after another after another. I just don't want to drive on and on anymore. I want to stop and smell the roses once in a while."

"So you think Conner is the answer to your normal life?"

"He is so much more than an answer, Caitlyn. He is my savior and I would choose him any day over the Arrow. And most of all I can be just plain old Oliver Queen for him; it will be enough. He is my blood. He is my legacy."

A comfortable silence enveloped them. The chatter of the people on the street and honk of cars came in through the open window. He looked out the window. The sky was cloudy. It seemed like there was a possibility of a light shower later tonight. It was comforting to him. The noise - it kept him tethered to reality. He could imagine the street below undulating with the crowd and the cars zooming by.

"So, what are you going to do now?"

He tore his attention from the window, "Right now? I don't know. But I have decided one thing. I am going to hanging up the hood. If I want Conner in my life then there is not going to be any place for the Arrow. I am going to lock everything up, that's for sure."

"That's a big decision? Are you sure you want to take it alone? I mean there are others in your team who are dependent on you."

"It may be a big decision but at the end of the day, it's my decision. And as for my team, they will understand. They have matured well. Diggle, Roy, Laurel, Felicity - I have taught them everything I know. They can keep the city safe, I have faith in them."

Caitlyn nodded and heaved a deep sigh. "I see you are resolute about this. You have been through a lot, though. If anyone deserves happiness, it's you."

He wasn't sure how much happiness he deserved. He wasn't a saint. His life was full of consequence and wherever he went it would follow him around like a faithful dog, always ready to turn rabid. But when it came to his son, everything was inconsequential. He would move heaven and earth alike to ensure his happiness, away from all the dangers of the world.

Just then Sarah ran into the room with a worried expression on her face and a tablet in her hand.

"Oliver," she said. "You need to see this."

She handed him the tablet and all of them huddled closer to take a look at the screen.

The screen was logged into a news site, the Central City Citizen to be exact. The first thing that he noticed on the page was a huge headline in white which ran in a red box on the top of the page. It read, "STARLING UNDER TERRORIST ATTACK." Below that was a video. Sarah bent forward and tapped on the play button. The video buffered for a few seconds and then started playing.

The video showed a female presenter behind a wooden desk. She had a frown on her face - a telltale sign of an impending grim news.

"Tonight at around 8:30 in the evening, Starling City fell victim to yet another organized terrorist attack. Our sources say that the attack is not over yet; it's still ongoing…."

He listened intently to the lady with the scowl as she recounted the horrors that befell his beloved city. Every word out of her mouth was like a bullet to his chest. His heart clenched in terror. Mass breakout from Iron Heights, serial bombings of the police precincts, streets turned into a war zone; he couldn't wrap his mind around it. The recounting and the video clips of the incidents were horrifying.

And just like that, all his sense of peace and contentment crumbled and his life was plunged into chaos again.

Starling was at the mercy of criminals and there was no one to protect it.

His initial thought went out to his sister hoping that she was all right. But that didn't stop him from thinking the worst. What if she was lying dead on the street like countless others?

And what about his friends? Maybe they were fighting to save the city or maybe they had fallen victim to the attack too. There was no way of knowing and it was killing him.

His city was on the verge of dying and here he was thinking about retiring and escaping to lead a better life. He couldn't. Not when his city needed him.

The video ended and Sarah took the tablet from him. He looked up at them. Both the woman looked perturbed. He shook his head and started to push up from the bed.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked

"I have to go," he said.

"Go where? Starling?"

"Yes, they need my help."

Caitlyn pushed him back on the bed, "You're not going anywhere. They don't need the help of a cripple."

"You saw the clips. You saw what is going on there. I have to go. I have to do something," saying that he pushed up off the bed again only to be pushed back.

"Stop struggling, Oliver," said Sarah, exasperation evident in her voice. "There is nothing you can do except heal. You are in no position to hold a bow, let alone stumble headlong into a full-blown war. It would be insane."

"She's right," said Caitlin in a soft voice, as though placating a five-year-old. "I just put your arm in a cast. You don't wanna aggravate it further otherwise it will set back your recovery from weeks to months. Rest and recover. That's all you can do for now."

She pursed her lips as she contemplated her next step and spoke, "I will head over to the lab and try to establish contact with Felicity. Hopefully, she will be able to shed some light on the matter and the situation over there and then we can act accordingly."

He could feel his thoughts muddling up and his brain shutting down. All of a sudden he felt sluggish and his eyelids grew heavy.

"I feel tired…," he said.

"It's the medication taking effect. Go to sleep. I will come over tomorrow. We will see what tomorrow brings."

He collapsed on the bed and immediately felt his body slacken. He needed the sleep but his city….

"I couldn't protect my city…," he whispered.

And just before he blacked out he heard Sarah say, "Oliver, if you couldn't protect it, you can damn well avenge it…"

Avenge…

Maybe the Arrow would be needed after all. Maybe it would be the last ride.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


End file.
